Perfect Silence
by The Petulant Prodigy
Summary: Grimmjow doesn't speak. Ichigo never asked him to. Love is only one of many invisible monsters. AU Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

_When I asked my creative writing teacher how to make a story feel real, she told me "That's simple. Write what you know." -TPP_

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><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 1.**

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><p><strong><em>"You'd have to walk a thousand miles in my shoes<em>**

**_just to see what it's like to be me_**

**_I'll be you, let's trade shoes,_**

**_just to see what it'd be like to feel your pain,_**

**_you feel mine, go inside each other's minds,_**

**_just to see what we find." _**

**_–Eminem 'Beautiful'_**

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><p>I chew my cereal slowly, eyes focused on the scratched plastic top of the kitchen table. I live in a shit hole. It smells like one, looks like one, feels like one.<p>

I can hear coughing through the thin wall that connects the kitchen area to my mother's bedroom, a wet, desperate hacking cough.

That means more blood.

I chew and chew and chew.

My mother has never been a strong person. She is the opposite of strong. The pills have made her a skeleton, blue eyes sucked back in her head, eyes that should look like mine but don't.

The cancer has spread to her stomach.

The doctor told my stepfather she has a year at best.

The meds fuck with her mind. Sometimes she cries herself to sleep, thinking I'm dead. Other times, she wants to stroke my face and tell me how I am the greatest son in the world.

When I see her, she's always curled in on herself in the fetal position in her bed, complaining of the cold when its easily ninety seven degrees and our single wall unit air conditioning is broken.

I don't sit with her as much as I should.

My stepfather doesn't sit with her at all. I don't know where he goes, what exactly he does, and I don't care.

I wish he were the one dying of cancer.

The front door opens and closes, the sound of shoed feet coming in my direction, "You here, Grimm?"

I hate when he calls me that. I told him not to fucking call me that. I remember the first time I met him, smelling like cigarettes and expensive cologne, back before my mother started getting sick.

I'd been six or seven, hating him instantly. I didn't like the way he looked at me, touched me. He always touched my hair, saying how beautiful it was, how unique. He had been sad my mother didn't have my blue hair, how it was so fascinating.

"Oh, so you are here. Good," he said, entering the tiny kitchen area. He's bigger than me, taller than me, stronger than me. He never lets me forget it.

I nod, not saying anything. My stomach burns. I don't want him to be here. I can't be here. I don't want him to touch me.

He looks like he's been out drinking all night. He smells like he slept in the street.

It's probably true.

He goes to the refrigerator and ruts around inside, pulling out a can of beer, "What the fuck? Why is there never anything to eat in this shit hole?"

I say nothing, set my spoon down, push my chair back, and stand up to leave.

"I don't remember _dismissing_ you," he said condescendingly, making me halt my progress.

If I don't leave now, I'll be late for school. He knows I have class.

I pick up the brown messenger bag I've had since secondary from the edge of the table, communicating my urgency.

He looks at the bag, then at me, "Come here."

My legs don't move. I feel sick. I can't look in his eyes.

"I said come here."

I know what happens if I don't.

One foot in front of the other until I'm standing near him, near enough for him to slap me hard across the face once, hard enough to jar my head to the side.

I want to scream as his other hand slides into my blue locks, tugging it hard.

I'm not in my body anymore.

His lips are hot against the hollow of my throat.

I can't close my eyes, can't scream. I haven't screamed in a long time.

All I can do is wait for it to be over.

His mouth is by my ear now, his stubble scraping my cheek, "Turn around."

I shake my head violently, fighting panic.

_No. No. __You haven't touched me in months. _

He tugs on my hair harder, the pain in my scalp searing.

_I have to go to school. I'm going to be late._

"Sousuke?" a weak voice calls followed by a fitful cough, "Sousuke, my pills…"

I stare at my shoes, sweat damp on my forehead, my fingers curling into fists.

Aizen releases me, a smirk on his lips, "Study hard. I'll see you after school, Grimm."

I leave the house.

Inside, I'm screaming and screaming until my whole body goes numb.

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><p>Lunchtime finds me on the school roof.<p>

I took a sandwich from an under classmen, my face and eyes doing all the talking for me, daring him to do something about it.

He doesn't. They never do.

It's something I do often. The prescriptions and rent suck up all my cash. Aizen pays the rent sometimes, but I can never count on him for it.

I'm lucky he helps out at all.

Sometimes, only sometimes, the thought of the money he always has in his pockets, always seems to have no matter how long he's gone from the house, is enough justification, is enough to make my brain shut down for the times he's touching me.

_He hasn't touched me in months..._

I finish the last of the sandwich.

_...but he did._

Then I fish two painkillers out of my pocket and swallow them dry.

Somebody sees me.

It's not unusual for kids to be up on the roof during lunch. It's not unusual for kids to stare at me. It doesn't bother me anymore. I don't know if it ever really did.

The Kurosaki boy is on the other side of the roof, sitting with his back to the chain link fence that wraps around the edge. I recognize two or three other boys from our class and a girl with big tits and a goofy smile.

He's still watching me, almost scowling. His hair is very bright in the sun, very orange.

I stare back, not sure what my own face looks like. The boy sitting closest to Kurosaki nudges him in the shoulder, his mouth moving a mile a minute, forcing Kurosaki to engage with him.

"Want some?"

I tilt my head in the direction of Gin, another loner. He's a real creep with strange silver-lavender hair and slit pale eyes that are almost never open. He holds out the lit blunt, smiling.

He's always smiling. He does enough smiling for the both of us.

I accept it; take a few deep pulls before passing it back to him.

This has been going on for the entire school year. This is pretty much the extent of our relationship. I've never talked to him, but he seems to accept my silence. I thought after the first few failed attempts at conversation he would get the hint and float off to bug somebody else, but he never did.

He talks, but not a lot, and he usually has drugs on him. I think this is the only real reason he feels comfortable with me.

Maybe he feels safe with me. I'm a loner, too, been one most of my life. People don't react well to my silence; makes them uncomfortable.

_"Shut the fuck up. Stop crying."_

I take what's left of the blunt from Gin's bony fingers, finishing it myself. The fuzz swarms my brain, making me warm.

For this single moment, I'm at peace.

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><p>"Oi, Ichigo, did you hear anything I just said?" Keigo whines, making me tilt my head in his direction.<p>

I'm annoyed with him, so I'm blunt, "No."

This starts him up on another tangent about friendship and loyalty, but I'm already tuned out again. My eyes look past stoic Chado to focus on the blue-haired boy I'd just watched pop pills.

He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was sharing a blunt with that kid everybody called Snake Face. He was bad news. He'd been transferred to our school after being expelled from the other local public high school for drugs and assaulting a teacher.

So nobody had really been surprised when he'd seemed to bond with Jaegerjaques, another rumored delinquent. I knew Grimmjow had been suspended for fighting more than once and, obviously, he was an avid drug user.

"Delinquents," Ishida said, adjusting his glasses, "Why do they even bother coming to school?"

"Stop staring! What if they hear you?" Keigo said worriedly, looking wildly from me to Ishida.

"At least we wouldn't have to worry about a verbal confrontation," Ishida said, plucking a shrimp from Inoue's bento box, "The blue dog doesn't talk. Maybe he's mute."

"He must be shy," Inoue said offhandedly, sipping from a can of tomato juice, "Maybe he just doesn't know how to talk well. He looks foreign. Oh! Maybe he needs to work on his Japanese…"

"Hm," Chado hummed, stopping Inoue short of one of her classic mindless tirades, "We have a few classes together. Never heard him speak."

I looked at Chado, feeling like the topic was a bit ironic for the notoriously quiet giant.

"Maybe it's brain damage from all the drugs," Ishida said, his tone haughty.

I frowned, "That's not cool, man."

"It's probably true."

"You don't even know him," I said, fighting my famous temper. Sometimes Ishida could be a real prick, although after having met his dad, I'd become a lot more lenient with his personality and attitude.

"Well, 'ta be fair, Ichigo, neither do you," Keigo said, rubbing at the scruff he'd been trying to grow on his chin, "Well, really, if 'ya think about it, nobody does, I guess."

I folded my arms over my chest, relaxing back against the fence, fighting the urge to itch at my forearms.

_To be fair, nobody really knows anybody. _

"There are worse things than drugs," I mumbled to nobody in particular, hoping the subject was dropped.

My stomach rumbled, hollow. I'd learned to ignore the burning feeling.

"Kurosaki, aren't you going to eat?" Inoue asked innocently, staring at my untouched homemade onigiri.

"Yeah."

_It's okay. Everything will be fine. Don't think about it. _

I took a small bite. My gums ached, the rice feeling like razorblades as it slid down my throat.

When the bell rings and the group splits up in the hallway I head to the nearest bathroom.

I stick my finger down my throat.

I don't have a gag reflex anymore.

My stomach heaves.

I flush my lunch down the toilet.

My arms itch.

_Don't think about it._


	2. Chapter 2

_I appreciate everyone who is reviewing. 400 people read this fic in one day. One day. That's insane. I couldn't sit still. -TPP_

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><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 2.**

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><p><strong>"Odd one you're never alone<strong>

**I'm here and I will reflect you**

**Both of us basically unattached to anyone or anything **

**unless we're pretending."**

** -Sick Puppies 'Odd One'**

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><p>After school, I head straight to the music store. The weather is shitty, rain soaking my clothes in a matter of minutes, but I don't have money for the bus.<p>

I'm not scheduled to work today, but I don't know what else to do. I can't go home.

I won't go home.

I'll have to go home eventually, at least by tomorrow afternoon. If my mom doesn't get her pills, I might as well smother her with a pillow.

You might think I'm sick, less than human, but I won't lie. I've thought about it before.

Ending her. Ending her pain. Ending my pain. Getting out, finding my lungs, erasing that slimy bastard from my life.

She's the only thing tying me to that place, that hell. She's the anchor, a rusty, heavy anchor.

And Aizen is a shark. A selfish, sick, manipulative bastard who spun shiny, exotic webs to cover my mother's eyes and entangle me.

Not only that, Aizen could move those webs at will, his silky words just like those gossamer strands. More like a spider then a shark, really.

People trusted him. People looked at him and saw an honorable man, a man supporting a dying wife and managing a delinquent teenage stepson. There was even more pity when he lost his job, a father and husband's worst nightmare.

But the drinking had started long before that, long before mom got sick. When I was twelve, I watched him hit her, once. He barely ever shouted, barely ever got angry. He'd never hit her before, never laid a hand on her that wasn't out of affection. She'd been absolutely shocked.

I don't know what was wrong with me back then. You wanna know the sickest part? When he hit her, and I heard her crying in the kitchen, I thought to myself _that's nothing. I wish he'd only hit me. Why are you crying? _

He'd already started touching me by then. My twelfth summer, the summer I started growing hair and changing.

Puberty. That's what he'd been waiting for.

My voice had been scratchy, strange. I probably hadn't weighed more than sixty pounds soaking wet. I was a runt. My height wouldn't change until the next summer, and the next.

_"You're not a baby anymore. You're becoming a man, Grimm."_

When I was little, he would always touch my hair. My mother touched my hair a lot too, so although it bothered me a little, I was never truly afraid of him. I didn't trust him, I didn't like him, but I was still naïve enough to think that in a couple years, when I was older and understood relationships better, Aizen would be that father figure I didn't remember, the one that left my mom before I was born.

But I'd been wrong. The touching increased.

In small ways, you know? Aizen is a very, very careful monster. His webs are clean, intricate, hard to see, just like real spider's webs. Throughout elementary he would help me with homework, sit too close, lean, run his hands over mine, claiming to be correcting my penmanship.

That was it. That was all, but it was _there_.

Then puberty and _kaboom_, Aizen's webs were so thick my mom would never see, society would never see.

Only I would.

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><p><em>I was twelve, almost thirteen, and terrified. I was still learning about my body, about what it could do, and Aizen asked a lot of questions. He told me I could come to him for anything for any reason, but I hadn't known what that meant, not until I started getting aroused in the shower and when I woke up in the morning.<em>

_This was my body, this was important. Aizen would know these things._

_I remember lying in bed one night. I was wearing my blue pajama pants with the stars all over them. My crotch ached, so I started fondling myself. The pressure kept building, and it scared me. I'd never jerked off before and was afraid I wasn't normal, and I'd only gotten more scared when my bedroom door opened and Aizen was standing in the doorway._

_He hadn't been drinking that night. I remember. I never smelled it on him, and his eyes had been…there aren't words._

_I immediately stopped what I was doing. I was still under the covers. In my mind, at that age, that meant I was still safe, still secret._

_"You alright there, Grimm?" he'd asked, coming into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with gentle, quiet care, "Everything okay?"_

_The voice of a concerned parent with the eyes of a monster._

_"I'm fine."_

_"Oh. Are you…" he approached the bed, sighed, and sat on the edge, close enough to touch me._

_But he doesn't. Not yet._

_"…I see. You're…relieving yourself. It's perfectly natural, Grimm. All men do it. It's part of growing up."_

_Practical advice for a father to give to his son: stepson or otherwise._

_I'd been so stupid._

_I'd still been too embarrassed to say anything, but something wasn't right. _

_I knew something wasn't right. _

_The door was closed. _

_The light was out._

_I'd been so stupid._

_Moonlight filtered in through the window, creating a glare across his glasses._

_Then he was moving closer, his hands sliding along my stomach. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I don't know what I was thinking. I was just too stupid to know what to do, to know what to expect._

_"Your mother's sleeping," he said quietly, one large, heavy hand descending under the sheets, caressing over my belly button before sinking lower, "You shouldn't wake her when you do things like this. She's a woman: she doesn't understand that this is natural. Sometimes, Grimm, men need help."_

_I remember feeling like my eyes were going to pop out of my head, my toes curling, my heart pounding, but I couldn't move. I wanted to say something, anything, whether to scream or ask him more questions I don't remember._

_I just remember those fingers wrapping around my developing cock, squeezing and twisting, making my hips move up and up and up…_

_I finally got enough strength into my fingers to tug at my sheets, bowing my head back, gasping and gasping and gasping because it felt so different, so foreign, so agonizingly good._

_But it was wrong. I shouldn't have wanted it, I still don't want it, but I'd needed it._

_After I came, I started crying, freaked out with myself, my body, what another man's hands could do to it._

_Aizen's lips had moved to my ear, his fingers still sticky, forcing two of them into my mouth as he whispered, "Now help daddy."_

_I nearly choked on his fingers, disgusted by the smell and feel, the taste. He was completely on top of me now, which made me panic. I started flailing, fidgeting, anything to get those fingers out of my mouth, his heat off of my body._

_He slapped me, shushing me, warning that if my mom woke up and saw me like this, she would hate me forever._

_"You're disgusting," he breathed, my pants by my ankles. He took his fingers away from my mouth, moving my legs._

_I didn't know what he was doing. I couldn't see through my fear, my panic, my anger. My chest hurt._

_All I wanted to do was scream._

_Instead, I whined, my body tensing and shuddering as his dirty fingers probed at my ass._

_One finger slipped in. Just one._

_Then another. _

_Then something bigger._

_And I lost it._

_I don't know why I didn't scream; it was like I couldn't. It was like I was watching this happen, helpless to do anything._

_He was bigger, stronger, smarter, faster._

_I was just a kid, a stupid, idiot kid._

_And I'll never forget the pain. You can't describe that kind of pain._

_My bed shook, moved, as he panted against my neck._

_All I could make was choked noises. That was it. That was all._

_My body was on fire. He was tearing me, ripping me, destroying me._

_Tears ran down my face and I cried and I cried._

_I must have gotten too loud, because soon his hand was over my mouth again and he was hushing me._

_"Good boy, Grimm."_

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><p>Nobody would ever believe me. Nobody would ever imagine what the man is really capable of.<p>

Only I know the truth, the secrets that will never be said.

_"You're disgusting."_

A car honks, the driver flipping me off. I have wandered into the road.

I do that sometimes.

I cross to the other side of the street and duck through another alleyway that will connect me to the main avenue. I can see the music shop now, red neon lighting up the display case window.

_BENEHIME MUSIC_

I'm safe here, safer than anywhere.

It's probably my favorite place in the entire city.

I duck into the shop, my old, skanky black Converse making squishing noises as I head deeper into the shop. It's an odd-shaped shop, extremely narrow-looking from the street, but once you're inside, it's long, so the shop's much bigger than you think.

Flyleaf's 'Breathe Today' is playing throughout the shop on mounted speakers. It's a simple shop: not fancy, but it's comfy, warm and, of course, stocked with thousands of CDs and a handful of guitars, keyboards, a drum set, amps, music books. Mostly people come here for the wide selection of CDs and concert DVDs anyway, so Urahara doesn't concern himself with the instruments too much.

The walls are an intense turquoise with band posters creating a unique upper border around all the walls of the shop, most of them signed. There's even a coffee machine and some funky, plush orange-and-green chairs in the back where people can chill for the hell of it and a bulletin board where local bands can post future events and shows. Urahara's obsession with music makes him want to stay involved in every spectrum and makes sure his employees know everything about what's up and coming.

Speaking of employees, my eyes immediately land on Starrk, who's currently handing a black-and-white plastic bag to a blushing female customer, his signature lazy smile on his face as he encourages them to come back again soon for the release of a new _Zanpakuto_ album.

I know why the girl is blushing. It would be hard not to.

Starrk's that crazy-good-looking guy that everybody gets along with. He's laidback, honest, sincere, and laughs when he's supposed to. His grey-blue eyes look lazy, but he sees more than he lets on. His wavy brown hair is pulled back and up in a halfsie ponytail, and it looks like he shaved today. Physically we're about the same: tall, thin, although his skin is darker. He's wearing the store-issued _BENEHIME MUSIC_ black t-shirt with white script, what I'll be wearing tomorrow when I actually have a shift.

The girl leaves, passing me with a weary eye. I've been working here for almost a year, but customers still get a little spooked by me. I mostly run stock in the back room and take inventory, so I don't have to worry about much customer interaction. I'll speak if I absolutely have to, but it's mostly head nods and grunts. The only reason Urahara even gave me a chance is because Starrk convinced him I'd be worth it.

Starrk notices me and throws up a peace sign, his nails painted black today, "Sup, Grimmjow? Nice of you to drop in, or was it the rain that dragged you here?"

I shrug my shoulders as I come closer to the counter. Starrk's four years older than me, a sophomore at the local college, but we've known each other our entire lives. We grew up together, in a sense. Lived right down the street from each other. We'd nearly broken our necks on Starrk's first skateboard. We had countless dirt clod wars in the skanky alleyways. He introduced me to weed. I introduced him to good bands, good music, despite my age. We'd walk to school and home together. Even when we got separated in middle school and high school due to our class difference, he'd be waiting at the gates for me every day to catch up with me, and I him, at least until he started college.

He was, and is, my only real friend.

We know each other's bullshit. Although he doesn't know exactly everything Aizen's done to me, Starrk knows enough. He would invite me over to spend the night at his house all the time; I practically lived with him during the summers, at least until my mom started getting sick.

I was there for him when his mom passed away when he was fourteen: complications in childbirth. Even though he was easy going and got along with just about everybody, he didn't have many close friends, and his dad was about as talkative as I am.

His mom and baby sister didn't make it. Starrk had been devastated. Talking to him, looking at him, you'd think this guy couldn't have secrets, darkness, but he does, and I think that's why I can't push him away.

I can't tell him everything, no, I've never done that, but he's all I've got.

"You're gonna catch a cold," Starrk says, breaking me out of my internal reverie even as another customer approaches the counter, sidestepping me, "Why don't you go in back and grab a shirt? Shuhei should be back any minute from break and we can go grab some food."

I nod and do as I'm told. I've never stopped talking to Starrk, I just don't talk as much as I used to, and I don't like talking around strangers or customers.

Starrk accepts all these things about me.

I'd never wanted a brother, but if I could have one, I'd want to pick Starrk.

The storeroom is unnecessarily messy, which is good news for me.

The messier it is, the longer it will take to clean up, reorganize, not to mention there are several boxes of new inventory that needs to get scanned and labeled. If I'm lucky, I'll be here late for the next three days that I'm scheduled.

I pull off my soaked hoodie and wet shirt, throwing them on the shelf used for the staff's personal belongings and slip into a black _BENEHIME MUSIC_ t-shirt. It's tight across my chest, but there's only mediums. I run my fingers through my hair that's still drenched, which makes it even longer. It reaches the middle of my back these days.

I don't know why I've never cut it. My mom cut it one summer a long time ago, claiming it was too hot to be running around with long hair. Kids in elementary had teased me and called me a girl, but by middle school it didn't matter anymore.

I bend over, grasping my knees, fighting for air.

_"So rare, just beautiful."_

I'm sick. I want to throw up, but don't. I stand back up and decide to busy my hands. I grab the nearest box of cds that have already been scanned and catalogued and head back into the main part of the store, which is actually starting to get busy. Either the after school crowd or people that were driven in due to the rain, but Starrk's already got a line five people long.

I set about organizing the CDs into their different genres, working fast. It's calming, really. Moving the slick plastic cases back and forth, back and forth, like the waves of the ocean.

You'd think the repetition would make me sick of this job in a month, but it doesn't. I love it.

Tracks change, filling the store with the sounds of a promising up-and-coming American band. I sing along internally, deliriously empty of thought.

I'm almost done with the box, trapped between the J-Pop and Punk section when somebody taps me on the shoulder, "Uh, do you–"

My fingers nearly crush one of the cd cases before I turn towards whoever touched me.

My body feels stiff and swollen at the same time. It's something I can't describe.

This is the thing about me.

Nobody touches me. Only my mom, and that's sporadic, depending on the state of her mind, and I always know when it's going to happen.

So nobody touches me. Not teachers, not Gin, not strangers. _Nobody_, not even Starrk.

_Not even Aizen. _

_He hasn't touched me. He hasn't touched me in months, almost a year..._

_I thought it was over._

I come back to myself, breathe in through my nose, stare at the orange-haired boy that's familiar to my mind's eye.

I've never been this close to him before.

He's looking at me with these big, tawny brown eyes that are filled with what is some kind of mixture of confusion over how I reacted and his recognition of a fellow classmate, albeit we've never spoken a word to each other. We might have had a class together our freshman year, but I don't really remember.

"Hey," he says. The tone isn't friendly, but it isn't dismissive either.

This kid's not fake. I don't know how I know that, but I know.

It's in my guts, squirming around.

I nod at him, suddenly very uncomfortable. It isn't uncommon for Karakura High students to show up in the shop, but I've never been forced to interact.

Until now.

"Well, this is awkward," he says, rubbing at his left arm, the long sleeves reaching to his wrists. The shirt is white, the rain having soaked through most of it.

I can see his nipples.

I avert my eyes, but there's nowhere to really look, so I go back to his eyes.

There's this tightening in my gut again, like when you meet someone, and you know you know something about them, but you don't know what? That's the only way I can describe it.

What's worse, I don't like the way he's looking back at me, like he's waiting for me to say something, to lighten the awkward tension.

I don't know what to say, really.

We go to the same school. He knows my reputation. I don't really know his, but when I do see him, he has some friends.

He interacts pretty normally, scowls a lot, laughs some. Pretty normal.

_So what is it? _

"I didn't know you worked here," he says offhandedly, his fingers running over a cd case to keep him busy. His fingers are long and delicate.

"How would you?"

He's nearly as shocked as I am. It's been days since I've said anything, my voice a little rough, scratchy.

I think I'm scowling. I don't know what to do, so I grab the nearly empty box of cds and brush past him, careful not to touch him.

_I can't touch him and he can't touch me._

This is my mantra until I make it around the stand and into the next section of music and he's near me again. Too close, too far. I don't know which.

I don't want to talk. I don't want to know him.

"Hey look, I didn't mean anything by it. Uh, I'm just surprised, that's all. A music store, of all places."

Despite my inner mantra, his comment makes me look at him, my jaw tense. _What the hell does that mean?_

He seems to read my expression. I don't know why his face is turning pink, but his cheeks and nose are now a rosy red, his freckles dark cinnamon.

_Stop looking at him. He's not going to touch you. _

He sighs, looking at the rack of cds in front of us, "Just wanted to know if you got any foreign EPs in lately. I didn't want to buy it online if I could grab it here."

I realize I'm wearing an employee t-shirt.

I nod. This doesn't seem to be enough for him.

Now I must communicate to get him to leave.

"What band?" I say lowly. I stare at his lips. I don't know why, I just do.

"Mayday Parade," he replies.

This surprises me. Probably my favorite American band.

"Me too."

He's staring right at me, and I'm staring back, and I don't know what I'm feeling. Obviously I said that out loud. It didn't even register. I love music. Besides this job, it's my only escape. The casual drugs with Gin and the common alcohol-induced comas with Starrk don't compare to how I feel when I'm with my music.

_I'm slipping. He's seeing me. _

"So you've heard the EP? It's only been out a couple days."

I nod.

His nose crinkles when he smiles, "so you've got a copy?"

He looks frustratingly eager.

I nod.

"Sweet."

The front door to the shop opens and in hustles Shuhei, pulling his hoodie down to reveal his ink black spiky hair. He knows he's late, but the line is already down to two people, the other bodies taking up the space simply browsing.

Shuhei slows as he notices me, eyebrows drawn together, "Dude, called in on your day off? That sucks."

I shrug one shoulder, which is enough for Shuhei as he heads over to Starrk, apologizing.

Kurosaki's still looking at me. I don't know what he's thinking.

I turn and nod my head in the direction of the back room. I haven't had a chance to stock the new inventory, but it shouldn't take me more than a couple minutes to find, and Starrk can ring it up.

Kurosaki will leave. I will be fine.

He follows not too far behind, waiting patiently as I start moving boxes, reading labels, moving others. I finally rip open a shipment that was delivered yesterday, pulling the EP entitled _Valdosta_ free and holding it out towards Kurosaki.

"Awesome," he breathes, extending his hand to take the cd from me.

This is the part where his fingers are supposed to accidentally brush mine.

This is the part where I shrink back, uncomfortable from the unwanted touch.

This is the part where he's supposed to be confused and curious about what the fuck is wrong with me.

None of this happens. Instead, it's much worse.

He's tentative, carefully making sure his fingers only touch the farthest edge from me, sliding it out without any contact.

I know he consciously did this because it took too long.

This _is_ worse.

He _knows_. He _sees_ me.

It's not fair. None of this is fair.

"Thanks, Grimmjow."

_He knows my name._

"See you at school," he says.

_He knows_.

I've known Gin almost a year and never said a word.

I've known Kurosaki all of five minutes.

I almost ask him why.

Why he's here.

Why he knows my name.

Why he even bothers to try and carry a conversation with me.

Why he's got freckles.

Why he is constantly rubbing his forearms.

I just nod and go back to sorting.

It bothers me for the rest of the night.

After Starrk's shift we grab takeout and have a few beers.

He asks me about the strawberry boy who was in the shop today.

He asks me if we're friends.

He saw me talk to him. He thinks it's a good thing.

He's so wrong.

I don't know how to answer Starrk, so I think and think and think, and I realize why I'm reacting to Kurosaki.

_If he can see me, I can see him._

This thought only confuses me more.

Starrk passes out on the couch. I take the futon. He's used to me spending the night. I don't need permission.

Before I fall asleep, I have another revelation.

_Takes an addict to recognize an addict. _


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is dedicated to all of my beautiful reviewers. I am beyond touched by your words, your thoughts. This is a rough chapter, but pain hurts. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 3.**

* * *

><p><strong>"This place rings with echoes of<strong>

**Lives once lived, but now are lost**

**Times spent wondering about tomorrow."**

**-Rise Against 'Blood To Bleed'**

* * *

><p>I feel strange.<p>

Like I violated his privacy, intruded on his life, which is ridiculous.

I had never run into him outside of school before.

I'd never run into him period.

It had been awkward. I'd been caught off guard. When I'd gone into the shop, I'd spotted the long blue hair almost immediately. Even wet, it had drawn my eyes like the shop's neon sign. When he turned down a new row toting a cardboard box, I connected the dots.

The front of his black T-shirt sported the name of the shop. An employee. I looked to the far end of the shop where the checkout counter was, spotting another employee. The tired-looking guy who helped me out every time I came in here. He was busy helping out a growing line of customers, ringing things up, focused on his current duties.

I'd gone to a far row, beginning my search, unable to find what I was looking for in the section it should have been in.

I didn't want to give up and go home if there was a chance they had it in stock. Maybe it just wasn't on the floor yet and if I asked…

So it couldn't be helped. I wasn't avoiding him, not really, but I felt stupid.

I didn't know how to approach him.

We are strangers. We go to the same school, probably share the same teachers, hear rumors about the same people, use the same buildings and bathrooms, but I couldn't tell you a single thing about him besides the unhelpful rumors.

We stare at each other on the roof sometimes. He'll be sitting with Snake Face or by himself. He'll be wearing jeans that have seen better days and faded band t-shirts, his hair loose, a cigarette or a sandwich in hand.

Sometimes other things. Illegal things, but who am I to judge?

"Hey," I say, hoping he'll turn around as I walk farther down the aisle. I'd rather confront Grimmjow and deal with a bit of high school teen awkwardness then stand in line at the register.

I said it again louder, his back still to me, his fingers flying over some cases as he sorted them in order.

I notice he has big hands.

"Hey," I started, reaching my hand out to tap him lightly on the shoulder, "Uh, do you…"

I trailed off. He was looking at me now, looking at me in a way I'd never seen him look at me.

I might as well have touched him with a knife. He was visibly shaken, although anger was apparent in his eyes and the set of his jaw. His fingers gripped at a cd case hard, drawing my attention.

I'd made a big mistake; that much was clear.

But he's not focusing on me. He's looking down at his clenched hands now, his grip loosening. He's not here, wherever he is.

"Hey," I say, drawing him back. He finally looks at me.

The blue of his eyes knock me out. This close, they're flawless, like ocean mirrors. His expression is wary. I wonder if he will speak to me.

"Well, this is awkward."

I wait. He blinks a few times, his brows drawing together like he wants to frown. He's not looking directly in my eyes, but I feel them on me, looking, probing. It isn't unpleasant, just different.

"I didn't know you worked here," I blurt. I think I do this because I want his eyes on mine. My chest hurts at the intensity of his gaze. I couldn't tell you why.

And then he surprises me for the first time.

He speaks.

"Why would you?"

I'm wet from the rain, the air conditioning cool against my skin, but now I have goose bumps. For a moment I just stare at him, knowing that I had seen his mouth move, but trying to confirm if he had really said anything.

The voice had been raspy, deep. I knew he smoked cigarettes, among other things, but I hadn't expected the sound to go straight to my groin.

I haven't felt anything like that in a long time.

I know I say something stupid because now he looks annoyed, a little offended. He starts walking away from me. I follow him.

I ask him about the EP, then I think about how he doesn't speak.

_He spoke to me. _

But that didn't mean anything. He works in a music store: he must interact with customers on a daily basis: how would he gain the job otherwise?

So it shouldn't be special.

It shouldn't.

But it is. I know it. It's just something I _know_.

"What band?" he says lowly, bringing me back to the present. He almost whispered it, but I caught it.

"Mayday Parade."

Pause.

"My favorite."

My chest hurts. I'm freezing and I'm covered in goose bumps, "Me too."

The rest of my visit is silent on his end, but it's not weird. Not at all. I don't know why it's not, it just isn't.

He's not a mute. He's just careful with his words.

Careful around everyone, just like me.

* * *

><p>When I get home, the house is quiet.<p>

I toe my shoes off, my socked feet whispering across the hardwood floor as I head down the short hallway, stopping in front of the small shrine that had been mounted to the wall.

My chest hurts.

I look away before running my eyes over the portrait again. The hall smells like vanilla, one of her favorite fragrances. The incense stick has been removed, not leaving a mess. The shrine is always immaculate. Clipped white daisies rest in a smooth vase next to the portrait, her favorite.

My chest hurts.

I can't breathe.

My arms itch.

Ache.

Burn.

* * *

><p><em>"I can drive," I said, grabbing the keys off the front hallway table. <em>

_"Maybe I should. I don't like the look of that sky..."_

_"Come on, mom. It's just rain." _

_Yuzu was just across town at ballet practice. We'd swing by and pick her up before grabbing her fraternal twin, Karin, from ice hockey practice. They weren't that far from each other, but Yuzu was closer._

_Mom had even said so._

_The rain was steady, nothing torrential. I put on my headlights._

_We picked up Yuzu. Yuzu was smiling and talking a mile a minute, strapped up in the backseat on the left side so that she could be closest to mom._

_The rain was heavier now, beating down on the roof of the car so loud I felt like it was pounding in my jaw._

_Mom had told me it's alright if I pull over. We could pull into that parking lot right over there, wait it out. Yuzu was complaining about one of the girl's in her class._

_I was stubborn. I've always been stubborn._

_I can do this. It's just rain. We're fine. Mom worries too much._

_And then it happened. Only a block away from the indoor ice rink, right under the freeway._

_I don't know what happened. It wasn't a red light. It wasn't._

_I was too disoriented, too scared. The car spun, the wheels slick on the pavement, making this gurgled, screeching sound as we spun._

_My hands on the wheel._

_Yuzu screams, my mom cries out._

_There's a grinding sound, snapping, metal moving._

_My hands on the wheel my hands on the wheel._

_My foot is nearly going through the floorboard on the breaks._

_It doesn't matter. I don't know what's happening._

_Glass pops; shatters. More grinding._

_My equilibrium is changing. I'm moving down, down, down._

_The car is flipping._

_It's so fast, so fast._

_I gasp as glass cuts through the skin of my arms, my face._

_Mom is screaming. I'm screaming._

_The rain is so loud._

_And then we died._

* * *

><p>Someone pulled me out.<p>

My ears had been ringing, my heart in my throat.

My head pounded, my arms burned. Glass everywhere.

Adrenaline kept me conscious, fear kept me focused.

Paramedics.

The car. My mom. My twelve-year old sister.

_"I can drive, mom. It's just rain."_

The car was so fucked up. So fucked up. I don't know what happened.

Then we were moving, we were all moving.

Hospital. The smell of antiseptic, piss, and pain.

_Mom. Yuzu._

A nurse and two orderlies have to restrain me, telling me things I can't hear.

I can't hear, I can't feel, I can't breathe.

I'm dead, too.

It's my fault.

We're all dead because it's my fault.

My arms burn my arms burn.

My chest.

My head.

My face.

Everything hurts. _Everything._

Mom. Yuzu.

A doctor cleans me up. Asks me my name, asks me if I know where I am.

"You're going into shock, son."

I know. I know I know I know.

I'm burning.

My dad shows up. I can't tell you what his face looked like.

No Karin. She must still be waiting at the rink, watching the rain, hating us for being late to pick her up.

They pick glass out of my skin.

I barely feel it. Just a slow burn.

The doctor shines a light in my eyes. Keeps me overnight to be safe, to make sure I don't have a concussion.

I don't sleep anyway. How the fuck could I?

Lots of talking. Lots of noise. When my dad forces me to eat something, I throw up.

He tells me all about the accident. About what happened.

I don't care. It doesn't matter. They're dead because of me.

Dad breaks down somewhere between telling me about mom's loss of blood and Yuzu's fractured skull.

I stare at the wall as I listen to him cry. I hate myself.

I really, really hate myself.

* * *

><p>"Welcome home."<p>

Mom's silhouetted in the entryway of the kitchen, watching me with a soft expression. Her face is slightly pocked on one side from scarring from the glass, dark smudges under her eyes. She isn't sleeping again.

She's still beautiful, though.

My eyes instantly travel down her neck to the tiny gold heart pendant hanging around her throat. Yuzu's necklace. The scars on her neck are redder, meaner, there, but she never thinks of them.

I unconsciously itch at my arms, thinking about my own scars, "Hi, mom."

She doesn't approach me, still watching me. Sometimes I'm scared she sees my demons, but other times, I think that I gave her enough demons to worry about that she won't look too hard for mine.

After all, I killed her daughter, my baby sister.

"I was just about to burn another stick of incense," she says quietly, holding up an unused stick, "Would you like to light it with me? We could pray."

It's been just over a year. For the first eight weeks after she came home from the hospital, my mother had never left her room. The only times she would come out were to fetch a new bottle of wine, grab more photo albums. She would cry and sleep and sleep and cry some more.

Dad stopped joking for a while. Karin hated me.

She still hates me. Blames me.

I might as well have killed her too.

Mom eventually started functioning again. She started cooking again, cleaning again. Karin won't let us touch her things. She won't let us go through Yuzu's side of the room.

About two months ago, Mom tried dusting Yuzu's bookshelf.

Karin came in and lost it. Dad had been terrified. He had never seen his little girl like that. We'd had months of family counseling, Karin never shedding a tear, never saying more than a handful of words.

But touching Yuzu's books, Yuzu's stuffed animals, anything Yuzu, had her up in arms. I'd never heard her scream like that, not ever.

Mom stopped trying after that.

"Honey," Mom says softly, running her hand gently through my hair. She doesn't touch my arms.

I didn't even hear her move. I look in her eyes, eyes that are the same as mine.

"Please?" she murmurs, waiting for me.

I don't know why she still cares about me. I don't know why she doesn't hate me, reject me.

She should just kill me.

But she never blamed me. Never, not even after she finally got to come home from the hospital and I bawled against her, crippled.

We light the incense. My mom folds her hands in front of her, bows her head.

I just stand still, staring at the portrait of the smiling sister I killed.

* * *

><p>"Summer's right around the corner," my dad says at dinner, smiling, "How about Papa takes us all on a family trip? I think the seaside would be fun! Karin, would you help bury daddy in the sand?"<p>

Karin doesn't look at me. She never looks at me. My stomach hurts.

"I signed up for summer soccer camp. I'm also taking remedial classes to prepare me for high school," she said, her voice robotic, her eyes dull.

"Ah, Karin, you make your Papa very proud," Isshin said with a tired smile.

My mom picks at her rice, "I think that's good, sweetie. You're so good at soccer."

Karin goes back to chewing.

"Well then, Ichigo, how about you and me have a little father-son bonding trip? Maybe fishing? The great outdoors, the fresh air, you'll like it a lot, give your mom and sister a chance to do their own female thing-"

"May I be excused?" Karin interrupts, getting up from the table without waiting for permission, "I'm tired. I've had a long day."

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Mom says quietly as Karin walks away, disappearing upstairs.

I stare at my plate. I can't eat.

"May I be excused as well?" I say quietly, feeling exhausted. I haven't slept in days.

"You've barely touched your plate."

"I'm not hungry, dad."

"Well then, we'll have a big breakfast together in the morning, ne?" he says, and it's the way he says it that I know he knows.

He's going to intervene. He's going to stop me from hurting myself. He's going to try and fix me, like the good doctor he is. He'll try to understand me.

He'll tell me things I've already heard that don't make any sense.

_"It wasn't your fault." _

_"It was an accident."_

_"Don't you dare blame yourself."_

_"We're a family. We will support each other." _

All lies.

I nod, wish both of them a good night. Tell them I love them.

I go up to my room, remove my clothes, stare in my mirror.

_Disgusting. _

I can almost count all of my ribs.

_"She's dead because of you!" _

I know, Karin. I know.

I run my fingers over the scars across my stomach, the couple whitish ones on my neck.

_You killed your family. You're a monster. _

I'm panting, feeling nauseous, but there's nothing to throw up, not even bile.

_You are evil. You are disgusting. _

I put my boxers back on. I grab my razorblade that I hide under my mattress.

I go to the bathroom. Lock the door.

Turn on the shower.

I run the blade slowly along one of the scars on my forearm, watching blood pool slowly.

Ah.

Just a little. Just along the scar.

I get hard.

I jerk myself off quickly, go to bed.

I don't sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_I picked up the pace with this chapter. I hope it comes off as believable. I have some ideas I would like to get to. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 4.**

* * *

><p><strong>"I'll be the one to protect you from<strong>

**your enemies and all your demons.**

**I'll be the one to protect you from**

**A will to survive and a voice of reason.**

**I'll be the one to protect you from**

**Your enemies and your choices, son.**

**They're one and the same, I must isolate you**

**Isolate you and save you from yourself."**

**–A Perfect Circle 'Counting Bodies Like Sheep'**

* * *

><p>The next few weeks are boring, restless. I see Kurosaki on the roof. He looks at me sometimes. I don't approach him.<p>

A part of me wants to. The more I think about him, the more I want to know.

I want to know what he knows, what he sees, in me.

I don't know what I see in Kurosaki, but whatever it is, I don't think it will be much longer until we face off against each other, demanding answers.

He has to feel what I'm feeling. His eyes slide over to me more and more as the days drag by. I know this because I'm watching him.

And then it happens.

One day after school, I go back up on the roof to get high. The doors don't get locked until late afternoon, so it's usually the best spot to get high without worrying about teachers or faculty.

I can get high anywhere, but the roof is where I want to be.

If I wasn't so focused on my mom, I know I'd have the money to be a real baser. I'd probably be doing hard shit, shooting up in a rank bathroom somewhere, but I don't have the money. I never have the money.

I'm rolling up my second blunt when I hear him.

"Can I burn with you?"

I turn slightly, locking eyes with him.

I nod.

He sits down next to me, waiting patiently as I finish tonguing the leaf.

I light. Lungful. Release.

I pass it to him.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

His face is pretty blank. I guess mine is too.

"I love the EP," he says, staring at the lousy grey sky.

I open my mouth slowly. Smoke releases in long, thick tendrils.

I breathe in quickly through my nose, sucking it all back in.

I nod my head.

He looks at me, quite serious, "I don't really want to talk about that."

This gets my attention. It's the way he says it and the way he looks at me that makes my guts squirm.

He's rubbing at his arm.

I lift my arm towards him, my opposite hand scratching at my forearm, just like he was doing.

He stops, eyes wide.

I know his secret.

_I see you. _

He folds his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, looking away from me. He eventually lays his head down on his knees, still facing away from me.

I don't like this. I don't know why I don't, I just don't.

I don't have anything to do with Kurosaki. He's a stranger to me. I shouldn't have any interest in him, but I do.

He must have some interest in me too because he still hasn't left.

"How did you know I was up here?"

He looks at me, shrugging slightly, "I followed you."

"Why?" It comes out more curious. I should sound threatening, but I don't.

He looks out at the city again before saying, "I don't know."

Minutes stretch by.

He finally says it, "Why do you talk to me? You don't talk to anybody else."

I look at him, at those rimmed, sleepless brown eyes. It's the little details in the long run that always seem to give you away.

"I can see you," I say, not really sure what I mean. I don't know any other way to communicate it.

He stiffens. Stares.

We go back to companionable silence, at least until he says, "The world's too loud."

I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

And he's looking right back.

* * *

><p>Three days after the roof, he comes back to <em>BENEHIME MUSIC.<em>

I'm trying to look busy when really I'm flustered.

My stomach is squirming.

"Hi," he says, picking up a cd not far from me. He studies it for a second before putting it back.

I move down another aisle. Starrk is watching us from the register area. I don't want him to see. I don't want Starrk asking me any more questions I can't answer.

But I don't want to give up my time with Kurosaki, who followed me, studying yet another cd I know he won't buy.

"When's your shift over?"

My response is automatic. It scares me, "Five."

"Okay. I'll come back at five."

And then he leaves.

I go back to stocking.

Starrk asks me if I'm secretly dating.

I glare at him. He laughs.

* * *

><p>Kurosaki does this for weeks.<p>

He comes in, asks me when I get off, and then he'll be there, every time, on the dot.

Waiting for me.

_Me._

We don't do anything in particular. Sometimes we just walk. Sometimes we stop and get take-out or sit in the park. Sometimes we're together fifteen minutes. Sometimes five hours.

By the time summer is almost over, I'm talking in complete sentences. Not all the time, but I'm getting better. I don't ask him things, but he tells me some things.

Like that he's got a weird doctor dad and a very sweet mom. His favorite color. A band he appreciates. His love for art. How much he fucking hates scratchy sweaters and cats.

I notice that Kurosaki is talking more and more, and that doesn't bother me. It should, but it doesn't.

I shouldn't want to be around Kurosaki. He doesn't know me, not the real me. If he did, he'd stay away from me. I think that's why I can't fully trust him. I don't know when his fascination with me, whatever it is, will end.

Shitty, I know, but I don't know how to explain that feeling like something's growing, that something's becoming personal or safe. It's something I haven't felt in a long, long time, and I'm getting spoiled feeling it with Kurosaki.

Like any addiction, it gets harder and harder to say no.

"When's the last time you were on a swing?" Kurosaki asks, staring up at the rusting bars holding the neighborhood swing set together. He's pushing gently with his feet in the sand, but not really going anywhere.

I'd just been sitting still, listening to the sound of his voice.

I shrug, wondering where he's going with this.

He says, "My dad used to take me here until I was twelve."

I don't want to think about when I was twelve. I don't want to think about it ever.

_"Good boy, Grimm." _

"…I just stopped wanting to after that," Kurosaki finishes.

I can feel his eyes on me even though I'm staring at my shoes.

They're dirty. Just like me.

"I don't have a dad."

Kurosaki looks sad, "Sorry."

I shake my head, look up at the darkening sky. Why had I said that? He didn't even ask. I just told him.

Because I wanted to. I wanted him to know that. Why? I wasn't sure. Just felt good.

"My mom's sick," I continue, not looking at him, "Really sick. Cancer."

"Christ."

"She's dying," my throat closes up. My chest hurts. It's hard to breathe, so I stop talking.

Silence. This feels good, too. This perfect silence.

And then he says something completely unexpected.

"I almost killed my mom."

I look at him. If this is some kind of a sick joke, I'm going to lose my shit.

He's looking right at me, those big brown eyes full of truth, "I was driving. It was raining. My little sister was in the backseat. She didn't make it. She died before the ambulance could get her to the hospital."

It's clipped, rushed, almost whispered. I don't think he's ever said these things out loud before. I wouldn't blame him.

"My mom and I survived. She still has nightmares."

I don't know what to say. I really, really don't know what to say.

But I think he's okay with that.

He doesn't need _'I'm sorry'_.

He doesn't want _'I'm sorry'._

I think, really, he needs much more than that, something that is much harder to come by. I don't know what it is, or if I have it, but I sit with him for what feels like forever.

In the silence. That perfect, clear silence that is almost like two heartbeats.

But I finally say it, because something tells me it's true and I need to.

"Your mom loves you."

He looks at me, really looks at me, like he can see me.

"Yeah," he says, a sad smile on his face, "she does."

* * *

><p>"Ichigo, we need to talk."<p>

My dad is standing in the doorway of my bedroom. I don't want to have this conversation.

"Something wrong?"

His face is unusually serious, "You tell me."

My arms burn. I haven't cut myself in over a month. I wonder why that is.

"I heard you throwing up last night," he says, still not moving from the doorway. My dad can be an idiot sometimes, but he's far from stupid. I probably would have made a run for it.

I shrug, "Something I ate or something."

I think I'm getting careless with my lying. It sounds fake even to me.

"Lift your shirt."

I stare at him and stare at him.

I knew this moment would come, the moment were he would choose to intervene. Of course he would. My dad loves me. I don't understand that. I killed his baby girl. He should hate me as much as Karin does.

I shake my head side to side once, not breaking eye contact.

"Ichigo."

"Leave it alone, dad."

"No."

"I won't stop."

"You _need_ to. I'm not going to watch this, Ichigo. Show me, now, or I'll have you pulled out of school and in rehab so fast you'll get whiplash."

He's completely serious. I haven't seen him like this in a long time.

"How long have you known?" I mumble.

"A while. I needed to be sure. Ichigo, whatever you're feeling, whatever you're blaming yourself for, starving yourself won't fix it. You know that."

"Does mom know?"

"She's worried about you. She knows you're not eating enough, but I don't think she knows to what lengths you're going to hurt yourself."

"I can't miss school," I say calmly. I'm far too calm. My remedial summer classes are almost over. My senior year is looming ahead of me, long and shady.

"Then let me help you. I'm a doctor for a reason. I can get you appointments with a therapist, anything you need. Fuck, Ichigo, I almost wish it was drugs."

I'm suddenly pissed. Totally livid. I stand up from my bed, take my shirt off and throw it on the floor. I hear him suck in a breath.

My chest, my stomach, my arms. He can see it all now.

He looks horrified.

"You can't _fix_ this!" I say, hitting my own wiry chest. The sound is hollow, "Nothing you say or do will fix this. I have to _pay_, I _have_ to. Don't you get that? Don't you?"

Tears are in his eyes now. I feel sick. I want to throw up.

I'm screaming internally as he approaches me and hugs me. Its solid, unyielding, his voice low, steady, "You're my _son_, Ichigo, my baby boy. I can't do anything? I can't help you? Save you? Then I'm a shitty excuse for a parent, aren't I?"

My eyes go wide. I feel small in his arms. I haven't hugged him in over a year.

I'm shaking and shaking until I start sobbing.

Minutes drag by. He just lets me cry. Damn him.

For the first time in a long time, we talk. Really talk. No bullshit. He might save my body. I know he'll watch me like a hawk from now on. He wants to see me eating even if its protein shakes.

I think of Grimmjow. I don't think that will be so bad.

When he finally leaves my room, I'm exhausted. The first person I think of is Grimmjow.

I take a shower. I scrub my accident scars until they're throbbing.

When I come back to my room, my dad is back, but this time he wants to know where I hide my razorblade.

"I thought you might come back from the shower with it," he says.

"I need that."

"No. You need me. You need mom. Karin. Your friends…even that blue-haired punk."

I'm startled. When did he see Grimmjow? And with me?

"In the park last week. Saw you there with him. You were smiling," my dad says with a lopsided grin, "I haven't seen you smile in over a year, and that punk had you smiling. I've never seen him before. Why don't you bring him by the house? I'd like to meet him."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't."

He looks stern again, "Drugs?"

Shit. How dare he?

"You know why he makes me smile, dad? He doesn't fucking judge."

I brush past him after grabbing my cell, taking the steps two at a time.

I slam the door behind me.

I know where I'm headed.

* * *

><p><em>BENEHIME MUSIC<em> is slow on Sundays. When I walk in, there is only two people browsing and the Goth-looking boy with the tattoos who I've come to know as Shuhei, is organizing music magazines.

"Hey, Ichigo," he says in greeting. I've been by the shop enough times now that Starrk and Shuhei are familiar with me. Urahara went to college with my dad, which isn't well-versed knowledge, but when Urahara is working the shop, he'll try to talk to me and ask me how the family is.

"Grimmjow here?" I ask Shuhei.

"He's on break."

"You know where?"

He looks me over. I must look pretty desperate.

"He might be outback smoking."

I mumble thanks and go out the back way that spills into an alley.

Grimmjow is leaning against a graffiti-covered brick wall, cigarette in hand. He looks a little surprised to see me. That has to be good, right?

"My dad knows about me," I say hurriedly, feeling naked.

Grimmjow flicks his spent cigarette down the alley.

I keep staring at him, waiting for him to say something, do something.

"He knows I'm cutting. He thinks I'm cutting, but…I haven't been cutting…lately."

I've never said it out loud before. I feel like I'm outside my body. He is just staring at me.

He's waiting for something. I don't know what it is but he's waiting for something.

His eyes are on mine as he says, "Why?"

One word. My mouth goes dry.

_Why? _Because I thought it would save her? Because I thought it could wash away my sins? Because I can't breathe without the pain and the nerves and the pound-pound-pounding in my veins?

It is none of those things. And everything. I am the monster.

"Why are you here?" he says, voice low. He sounds weary.

"What?"

He is not going to repeat himself. I know why. I know.

I run my fingers through my hair, look at him again. I'm worn out.

"I haven't cut myself in weeks."

Grimmjow's jaw flexes.

I take a deep breath, "You make me better."

Grimmjow looks away, shakes his head side to side once, eyes focused on a gang tag spray-painted on the wall, "That's not true."

"You can't tell me that. You don't know."

He looks at me again, hands in his pockets.

He walks towards me. My chest hurts, but it's different.

He's close enough now I could touch him if I wanted to.

He opens his mouth and says, "Go home."

I freeze. That can't be all. That can't be it. In two words, my world snaps in and out of focus.

He's waiting for me to leave, to do what he expects. Kurosakis do not walk away.

"No."

He looks mad. Angry. This is good. This means he feels enough to react.

I grow brave, "When's the last time you took pills?"

He doesn't look at me.

"Come on, Grimmjow, when?"

He goes past me to open the metal door that leads back inside.

I ram my shoulder into it, keeping him from leaving.

His entire body is tense, fingers gripping the handle so hard his knuckles are white.

I stare and he stares back. He's a simmering volcano. I'm not giving up.

"Your silence tells me everything I need to know."

We're frozen in this moment.

I've never felt so alive.

"I'm not good for you," he says slowly, evenly, his eyes betraying rage, "Stay away from me."

"You're perfect for me."

The words are out. I hadn't planned on saying them, but I'd been thinking them. I don't want to lose Grimmjow. I don't want to lose the peace I feel when I'm with him.

My dad might save my body, but I know, I just know, that Grimmjow is meant to save my soul.

I don't want to lose him. I won't lose him.

I lean my face forward. We're nearly nose-to-nose. I'm not touching him, not yet. His body is tense again. He looks like a caged animal.

He hasn't moved. Not yet.

"You're important. Very, very important, okay?" I say, trying to control my breathing.

His free hand had been clenched into a fist, balled at his side. It goes limp.

Carefully, slowly, gently, my fingers brush against his.

His eyebrows are drawn together, his lips turned down, eyes watching my hand.

He still won't move.

My palm finally slides against his too-warm palm, testing him.

He won't look at me, just keeps staring down at our now joined hands.

I lock my fingers with his. He's not gripping back, but he's not pulling away either.

"I don't want to fix you, Grimmjow," I say lowly, "This, just like this, is enough."

He's still studying our hands like he's never held someone's hand before. I suddenly wonder if this is true.

Then, he's gripping back.


	5. Chapter 5

_Just got back from an anime convention. I cosplayed as Grimmjow and saw quite a few Ichigos, some good, some not so good. I'm surprised more girls don't cosplay Bleach characters. And if you do, please for the love of fuck stop being Orihime. –TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 5.**

* * *

><p><strong>"Now son, I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things."<strong>

**–Mayday Parade 'Terrible Things'**

* * *

><p>Our fingers are laced together.<p>

I feel sweaty, exposed.

I've never held someone's hand before. Maybe mom's hand when I was little, but not like this, where you feel like your stomach is itching and your throat is sore.

"You're very, very important, okay?"

I've never held someone's hand before. Never hugged. Never kissed. I feel young, too young, and so old at the same time.

Aizen used to tug on my wrists, push me, hit me, hurt me, but the pressure of Kurosaki's hand is slight.

I'm not threatened. My body is beginning to relax.

"I should go," I say lowly. Cotton is stuck in my throat.

I'm looking at his face now. He's so…something.

"Okay."

I squeeze his hand before letting go.

I already want to grab it again.

He steps away from the door. I open it. He follows me back inside, my guts burning.

"When do you get off?"

I look at him. He's looking back at me like we just shared a secret. Maybe we did.

"Nine."

"Okay."

He leaves. My stomach calms, but my mind doesn't.

* * *

><p>When he comes back that night, he doesn't touch me.<p>

Somehow this feels more intimate.

He knows me without really knowing me. Kurosaki is special.

"My dad saw us last time we were here," he says, the tip of his shoe churning the playground sand, "he wants to invite you over. I told him it was up to you."

I'm curious, terrified, and flattered all at once. I don't think that it's a good idea.

He must read it on my face because he says, "It's okay. You don't have to."

We sit together for over an hour before I say, "They won't like me."

"Of course they will. Why would you think something like that?"

I shrug, still not looking at him.

"Grimmjow?"

I set my jaw, my mask back in place, "I don't want to."

"Okay."

He says it quietly, soothingly. The word feels like a caress across my face, calming me. He's being careful like I'm a wild animal.

I'm a dirty animal, but Kurosaki sounds like he cares.

Like he gives a fuck about how I feel.

I don't know if I like that or not.

My chest tightens. I don't want to disappoint him.

I let a couple more minutes pass by in silence before saying, "Just…not now."

He instantly brightens. Why does he do that? When he smiles, I feel funny. It's not bad, it's just…different. Kurosaki should smile more. Kurosaki should smile all the time.

_He's so bright. He shouldn't be around me. _

I live in the background, in the white noise. I live beneath the dirt, hiding, always a silent dirty monster, but Kurosaki stays. Always.

I don't know how to feel about that. I've been feeling a lot of things lately.

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers.

It should terrify me how simple this is.

Our fingers lock loosely. We sway back and forth in the dark, nearly silent on the rusty swings.

* * *

><p>It's a week later I realize that Kurosaki is getting to me.<p>

He's under my skin, in my head, all the time. Constantly.

_"You make me better." _

How is that possible? How? Dirty, useless me? I'm nothing. I'm dust particles. He's cold watermelon in mid summer.

His nose crinkles up when he smiles. His freckles are the color of cinnamon.

I really like cinnamon.

He gave me a stick of cinnamon gum yesterday. I chewed it in silence, thinking about his freckles. I really like them.

I like Kurosaki more than I like cinnamon.

Starrk thinks that's 'really something.' I don't know what that means.

"You like him," Starrk elaborates. He's lying on the floor in front of the television watching an episode of _Ouran High School Host Club_, "He likes you. Stupid simple."

Starrk yawns. I stare at my hands.

"Don't know what you mean."

Starrk's focus is still on the television, one hand holding his head up while the other scratches at his side, "Does he make you happy?"

Stupid question. I already know the answer.

"You like him coming to the shop? Waiting for you? Hanging out? You like talking to him? Being around him? Hearing his voice? His laugh?"

The questions are coming out slow and languid, but they hit me like invisible bullets.

I feel sweaty again.

Kurosaki is caging me.

For a couple minutes, I'm panicking internally.

_He's going to see me. Really see me. Eventually. _

I need to calm down, but I can't. Starrk looks back at me, "You okay?"

I nod, swallow. I go to the bathroom.

I need to think. Really think. Just calm down. Breathe.

_"You're really, really important, okay?" _"

And just like that, my chest doesn't hurt so much anymore.

* * *

><p>It's a Saturday night when I show up on Kurosaki's doorstep.<p>

We've walked by his house over a dozen times by this point. I've never stood on the front steps before. I'm more than intimidated.

I don't know why I'm here.

Then he's standing in the doorway and then yes, I do know why I'm here.

His hair is disheveled, eyes bright. He's still wearing long-sleeved t-shirts, but his skin looks healthier. He's been eating more. He told me so. Most of the time he eats with me; small meals here and there. In the beginning he threw up a lot, but not anymore.

"Grimmjow, hi."

I'm burning all over.

I look back at the street for a second, my feet like lead. I should leave. I should go inside.

I don't know what to do. I don't want to panic, but it's hard.

And then he says, "Do you want to come in?"

I didn't say anything. I just stepped inside.

* * *

><p>We play video games for a little while in the living room. The kitchen smells amazing. My mouth is watering the entire time Kurosaki is kicking my ass on the screen.<p>

"You don't play much, do you?"

I just shake my head no and he laughs.

His laugh makes my spine tingle. I'm too warm.

His mom comes in, smiles at me. She's really pretty.

"Dinner is ready."

Then I'm sitting at the Western-style dinner table with Kurosaki's family, all of whom are not nearly as scary as I thought they would be. Kurosaki's dad is a little weird, but I'm not exactly afraid of him. I'm more tense than usual, but he doesn't pry or ask me questions. He smiles at me and tells me I'm always welcome in the Kurosaki household. Kurosaki mumbles something to him that I don't hear, which only makes his dad rub his neck sheepishly and laugh.

Kurosaki's mom, or Masaki, makes me feel guilty about my own mother. She used to be a lot like her, but she's not anymore. Masaki just smiles sometimes and chats casually. I'm not afraid of her.

And then there's Kurosaki's little sister, the dark-haired one. When I first came into the house, I bowed my head slightly at Yuzu's memorial.

I've never spoken to Karin. She is ignoring me as well as I'm ignoring her, but I already feel like I know her. She barely looks up from her plate, answers when spoken to, but she's not really there. It scares me how much I see of myself in her.

I see her. I wonder if she can see me, too.

Kurosaki doesn't talk about her. I don't want him to if he doesn't want to.

She excuses herself from dinner early. Kurosaki doesn't eat after that.

I help Masaki and Ichigo with the dishes afterwards. I'm used to doing the cooking and clean up for myself, but Masaki is impressed.

"Thank you, Grimmjow. You're such a sweetheart."

My gut burns as I think about my own mom, the one that's dying in a bed alone.

"Thank you for dinner," I say, bowing my head slightly. Aizen was always strict on manners, "I have to go."

I try to get out fast. Kurosaki follows me.

"Did she do something wrong?" Kurosaki asks at the door.

I pull the door open, look at him. How could he think that? His family is beautiful. Damaged, imperfect, but healing and growing and wonderful. The demons won't lurk forever in this house; Kurosaki has to know that.

"No," I say seriously, watching his face.

He rubs his arms unconsciously, "I didn't know when you would come around, or if you would…so…thanks for coming. It meant a lot to them."

I nod. I need to get home. It's late. I don't know if Aizen is home and if he's not, my mom won't get her next set of pain meds.

"Will you come again? Maybe tomorrow?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"Okay."

The way he looks - those eyes watching me – I want to touch him so bad.

I don't know if he wants me to. I don't know if I should.

The door opens. I'm on the front steps.

Then I'm on the sidewalk. He's gone back inside, and I'm on the sidewalk.

I'm not moving again. I should be, but I'm not.

I turn back towards the house.

I walk back up those steps.

I tap on the door.

Kurosaki answers almost immediately.

We stare and stare and stare.

And I say, "Tomorrow. Ichigo."

* * *

><p>When I get home, the house is silent.<p>

I toe off my shoes and pad to my mom's room. The light isn't on. She's sleeping.

I'm starting to close the door when she says, "Grimmjow?"

"Hi, mom."

"The light."

I flip the switch on the wall. A small lamp on the bedside table covered with bottles of pills is the only illumination.

She looks so small. I don't ever remember her being this small.

I go to her bedside, run my hand through her short black hair. It's grown back some.

Her eyes are clouded by the morphine. She's looking at me. She can't really see me, though. She'll never really see me.

"I woke you," I say lowly, hoping she'll slip back into blessed unconsciousness. I was only going to give her another dose if she was awake and coughing again.

"I wasn't sleeping," she answers hoarsely, shifting slowly onto her side.

I know what this means. I want to run and hide.

Slowly, I crawl into bed beside her. She turns her lips up and puts her tiny hand in mine. I don't dare squeeze back. Her hand is so skinny, so frail. I feel as if I could probably break every bone in her hand without even trying.

I could be such a monster if I wanted to.

Sometimes she wants me to lay beside her, talk to her. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I know she gets lonely. I know that she loves me. I know she wants to capture just a few more moments with her only son before she leaves this world forever.

I feel like I'm suffocating.

"How was your day?" she croaks.

I swallow a lump in my throat. I haven't talked to her, really talked to her, in weeks.

She doesn't know anything about Kurosaki. Kurosaki doesn't know anything about her. Other than the cancer. Other than the dying. I think he hurts for me, knowing that. It makes me want to tell her everything, but I don't know how.

"I went to my friend's house," I whisper, shifting my weight in the bed so that I'm facing her.

"Starrk's? That's nice, baby."

I swallow another lump. My chest hurts, "No. Another boy. Ichigo."

She smiles. Her smile makes me smile. Her grin is contagious, a beast of a grin, "Like the fruit? I like him already."

I snort. I forgot how funny my mom is. I forgot a lot of things about her. I forget more and more every day the longer I'm around Kurosaki, but I can't stop myself.

"He's…different, mom."

"A good different?"

I nod.

"What's he like?"

I have to think. I want to be honest.

"Sunlight and...cinnamon. And steel."

"Tell me more."

And I do. I tell her more and more. I tell her about his family, how comforting they are, how normal, how tragic, how beautiful. I tell her about his arms, how he hides them, how he's starting to eat again. I tell her about the music store and holding hands. I tell her about the swings and his smile. I tell her about how I want to touch him but don't know how or if I should. I tell her how afraid I am of him.

When I'm done, she's asleep again.

I don't know if she heard all of it, and it doesn't really matter.

I lay there a while longer, thinking about everything I just said.

And then I realize I haven't talked that much in a long, long time.

* * *

><p>The next day, I stay home with mom. I give her medication. I watch her drink a hot cup of tea. She isn't hungry, but I make myself a peanut butter sandwich and sit with her while I eat it anyway.<p>

She wants me to draw her something. I draw sometimes. It calms me, makes me feel good. When I have extra cash, I buy a sketchbook or charcoals. I spend more time drawing then I do on homework, but I know mom wants me to at least try and graduate high school. We've never talked about college, but if I can, I'd like to.

So I sit with her and I draw her.

Not like she is now: small, thin, frail, weak. I draw her like she used to be, with healthy skin, piercing blue eyes, a strong chin, thick, black hair. She's never been strong. She never stood up to Aizen; still doesn't, but I love her.

I can't leave her. I won't.

"I love it," she says when I'm done.

I give her another cup of pills. She swallows them each one by one.

She runs her hand over my face, squeezes my hand tight.

I barely feel the pressure, but it's there.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too, mom."

"So, so much."

"I know." I lean in, give her a kiss on the forehead.

"I'm sorry you can't be a real kid," she says suddenly, making me freeze.

She's got tears in her eyes and I can't see her cry. I can't. I don't want to.

"I'm sorry I have cancer. I'm sorry I'm weak. I really am, baby. I know it's not fair."

"Mom…"

"I really love you, baby. I really, really love you, okay?"

I nod because I can't speak. I can't even swallow.

I wait for her to fall asleep. I read. I eat again.

Then I go to see Ichigo.

We're sitting next to each other on the floor in front of the TV in his bedroom, my mind lost in thought.

"What's wrong?"

I don't tell him. I'm worried about my mom. She's gotten emotional before, hysterical even, but this felt different.

I feel restless. I can't focus on the show on TV.

Ichigo's watching me.

"Grimmjow?"

He doesn't say anything more for a while.

_I_ _see you. _

I lift my arm, run my fingers over his, studying them. He's paler than me, my skin slightly darker than his, more olive, but his fingers are slender. I like them.

This is the first time I've touched him of my own will.

Ichigo turns his hand, palm up, at the touch of my fingers.

I settle my own palm across his, enjoying the heat.

We lock our fingers.

We sit like this for another hour before I tell him about my mom. Not much, just what I did with her today, about drawing, about what she said about his name. He smiles. I thought he would be annoyed with the strawberry reference, but he's not.

"My mom would really like your mom," he says.

He didn't have to say it, but that's what makes it special. He's never even met my mom, only knows what I choose to tell him.

It doesn't matter. He cares about me, which means he cares about her, too.

"I'd like to meet her, sometime. When she feels well enough."

My heart lurches into my stomach.

I squeeze his hand hard.

"Okay."

I don't know what I was thinking. I was so stupid.

Kurosaki doesn't get to meet my mom, because less than a week later, she's dead.

* * *

><p><em>"She said 'Boy can I tell you a terrible thing?<em>

_Seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks_

_Please don't be sad now I really believe_

_You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me'."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: If you review, please keep in mind that life is not fair._


	6. Chapter 6

_This chapter ended up going in a completely different direction. I hope it is still believable. This chapter is for my gorgeous Kylah. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter Six**

* * *

><p><strong>"I wanna move, but I'm trapped in the outer room<strong>

**I know you hear me, clearly, I'm weary**

**Come and fill me with your power, heal me."**

**–Manafest 'Impossible'**

* * *

><p>I can't explain what I felt when Grimmjow came over to my house that first Saturday night.<p>

I don't think there's a word for it, or an emotion, really. I was just happy. He sucked at video games, but it didn't matter because he was just there. It meant a lot to me that he was there. I didn't tell him that, but I think he knew anyway.

Dinner went smoothly, not nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. Grimmjow didn't speak much, but I'd told my parents ahead of time that if he ever did show up around the house that he wasn't a big talker.

I told them to be easy on him and not try and touch him. They had impressed me by following my words of advice.

And when Grimmjow left and came back, telling me he would be back tomorrow, I think that's the moment I fell in love with him.

_"Tomorrow. Ichigo."_

I've never been in love before. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like. I don't have much to go on. I'd never been in a relationship. Of course I'd thought about sex and girls and touched myself, but when Yuzu died, those things had somehow become taboo.

I had just stopped thinking about it, desiring it. Even touch had become a problem. I liked to hide behind hoodies and long sleeved shirts; it was rare that even my parents got to see my scars, so a relationship, platonic or sexual, had been out of the question.

Despite all that, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with Grimmjow.

It doesn't bother me. I think it should, but it doesn't.

I like the way we are together. I like the way he is. I like how he makes me feel, and I think that's all that love really is, isn't it?

I can't tell him, not right now. I think I'll know when, but it isn't right now. I don't want to scare him, make him run. That's the farthest thing from my mind.

When he told me about his mom, held my hand, I thought I would crumble right there. I thought I was going to tell him, but I didn't. I was too terrified, but I know what I'm feeling is real, whatever it is. So I'll wait.

He'd never touched me on his own before. I always asked before touching him. I liked when we held hands and the feeling I get in my chest and stomach when he's close.

The next couple days are typical, although now we sit together at lunch on the roof. The school year was still fresh, barely begun, so I didn't see what the big deal was. Apparently it was a big deal to some, including my shrinking circle of close friends.

I'm still surprised they put up with me after the accident. For the first few months after the accident, I ignored social interaction completely, but Inoue, Chad, and Keigo had refused to give up. Ishida was dating Inoue, so I think he was only there for her, or maybe she forced him into it, it doesn't matter.

But Keigo and Ishida had certainly been opinionated about my sudden new seating arrangement. I ignored them completely these days. Inoue and Chad always wave from their same spot, munching on their lunches.

Gin sat with us sometimes, but not as often as I thought he would. Sometimes I think he knows what's going on between us, or at least senses something about our relationship that isn't quite normal. I don't really know because I don't talk to him too much, but when I first started sitting with Grimmjow, we talked about a few things of common interest like food and music. He's not a bad guy, just strange.

So when I come up onto the roof on Friday and Grimmjow isn't there, I'm confused.

Gin is smoking a cigarette. I fold my legs underneath myself and stare at my lunch before asking him where Grimmjow is.

Gin shrugs, "He skips sometimes. S'not a big deal."

I don't have any classes with Grimmjow, so lunch and after his shifts are the only times I can be around him. I'm beginning to feel like Grimmjow is replacing my razorblade these days, "Why does he skip?"

Gin looks at me with pale blue eyes, "Mah, don't know. Never asked."

I offer Gin my sandwich. I don't have an appetite anymore.

I watch him eat it before deciding Grimmjow picked up an extra shift at work. He works every Friday.

_Yeah, that must be it._

* * *

><p>After school I head to <em>BENEHIME MUSIC<em>. I don't think I've ever walked there so fast. I'm sweating as I open the door and step inside. Kid Cudi's _'The Pursuit of Happiness'_ is a quiet rumble from the mounted speakers.

_'If I fall if I die know I lived it to the fullest_

_If I fall if I die know I lived and missed some bullets_

_I'm on the pursuit of happiness and I know_

_Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold_

_I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good…'_

Urahara is at the register area today, ringing up some purchases while Shuhei's helping another customer out on the floor.

No blue. No Grimmjow.

I'm on my way to the storeroom to check if he's doing inventory when somebody bumps into me hard and some cds fall.

"Shit."

"Sorry, Jinta," I say, bending down to help the crimson-haired middle school student. Urahara had him when he was young, still a teenager, but you would never guess it when taking in Jinta's appearance. He looks nothing like his father, except maybe the chin and sharp, intelligent eyes. Urahara lets him help out around the shop on weekends when he's in serious need, so this only confirms for me that Grimmjow isn't here.

"S'cool," he grunts, grabbing the rest of the stack from my hands. I had been expecting to be cussed out, like the old days, but its obvious that the kid has done a lot of growing up since the last time I really talked to him. I didn't really have much to do with him before the accident, so there was no way I was going to pay attention to him after the accident, but the kid had certainly gotten taller.

He's to my shoulders already. I wonder if Karin has changed as much as he has, if Jinta's been noticing. As her older brother, I should probably have a chat with Jinta, but I don't think I have the right to be in Karin's life like that. Not anymore.

"Grimmjow here?" I ask him even though I already know the answer.

"Nah. Dad's got no idea where he's at, or Starrk. Neither showed up today," Jinta says, beginning to move to another stand to move the cds.

I follow him, not satisfied, "Did he call them? Are they sick?"

Jinta shrugs, completely carefree. He doesn't know that I'm flipping out inside. He doesn't have anything on his mind but the small bit of yen his dad will probably slip him for helping out today and soccer and cars and dark-haired quiet girls, "Sure. I guess. I don't know."

I leave Jinta to his job and make my way to Urahara, who just finished handing a bag to a customer and is smiling at the next customer. I come around the counter, my concern too urgent to wait for the line of customers.

"Urahara, do you know where Grimmjow is?"

"Oh, hello there, Ichigo," he says, ringing up a cd from an annoyed looking girl smacking her gum loudly. I have the urge to punch her.

"Do you?" I repeat. Sometimes Urahara is too laid back for my taste. As an owner of a business, I would think he would be a little more worried, or at least angry that two of his employees are missing, especially since he never hires a crew bigger than a handful of people. Losing two employees, for whatever reason, would make most people lose their hair to stress.

Not Urahara. He finished up with the next customer before looking at me, "Grimmjow never showed up for his shift yesterday. Or today. I don't know where he is."

It's at this moment I realize I'm in love with someone and I don't even know their phone number. Or their address. Or anything helpful, really.

How is that possible?

"Could you give me his number? Or his address? It's really important I talk to him," I hurry to say as he helps the next customer who also looks irked at my presence, like I'm wasting their valuable time. They don't know that I'm going through a potential personal crisis. They don't know that the boy I love could be anywhere doing anything without me right now. It's not their fault; it's just the way it is.

Urahara sighs. He knows how stubborn I am, "Get Jinta. He knows where I put the employee files."

I thank him and head straight for Jinta. Jinta takes me to the storeroom and leads me to the microscopic office area, opens a bottom drawer, and rifles through the couple scant files until he comes across Grimmjow's.

He flips it open, scans the page, and says, "There isn't a number, only an address."

I jot it down on a scrap of paper and tell him thanks before I leave the store. I have to take the bus, but the wait is worth it because it would have taken much longer on foot.

I've never been to Adjucha by myself before. It's a pretty rough neighborhood, not quite a ghetto, but I wouldn't feel safe in it after dark. I look at the slip of paper again before crossing the street and cutting through an alley filled with garbage.

When I reach the right block, I have to look at the paper again to make sure I'm in the right place. It's a plain-looking block flat, the grass in front of it looking more dead then the bleak sky. The two windows are dark. I don't hear anything but the bark of a dog from somewhere farther off.

I approach the door, my stomach rolling. Something doesn't feel right.

I knock. I wait.

Nothing.

I knock again, harder this time.

I call Grimmjow's name and knock again.

The door finally opens.

It isn't Grimmjow.

It's somebody else, a tall, brown-haired somebody else with brown eyes that immediately remind me of dead things. His hair is slicked back and he's handsome, clean shaven, and wearing long black pants and a white wife beater. I have probably woken him up.

"Who are you?" he asks, his voice low like building thunder.

I don't like him. I really don't like him, and I don't know who he is. Could this be Grimmjow's father?

"Um, I'm looking for Grimmjow."

He looks me over again. I feel like I need to take a shower as his eyes trail over my body, back up to my face, "Grimm? He's not here."

"Do you know where he is?"

The man leans in the doorway, cocking his head slightly, "No, I don't, but if you want to come inside and wait…"

"No, that's okay."

"You sure?" he asks, pushing his hair back off of his forehead, "He couldn't have gone far. He's just upset."

"Upset?"

The man nods once, "Hisana – his mother – passed away yesterday morning."

I'm breathless. I feel like throwing up.

He was in school yesterday. With me.

"Breast cancer. We knew at this stage she had less than a year," he says evenly. I don't know how he isn't crying, isn't getting emotional. He sounds…like nothing, "It began to spread to her other organs. Her stomach, her liver."

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say. I just want to find Grimm.

"I-I'm sorry."

His lips turn up, "Thank you. I appreciate that."

I want to run. I want to find Grimmjow, but I don't have anywhere else to look. This is the end of the road.

His lips turn up in a smirk. I feel disgusting.

"Sure you don't want to wait?"

"No."

I leave. He closes the door. I walk down the street, take a right, keep on walking.

I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go.

I'm useless.

* * *

><p><em>She's dead. Gone.<em>

I should be happy. I should be relieved. I should be a lot of things.

I'm just empty.

Hollow. So, so hollow.

And angry. So angry and there's nothing I can do, because she's gone and she's not coming back. She can't protect me. She never protected me, but now she's gone, and I'm alone in a house with the monster.

* * *

><p><em>When I got home from school on Thursday, there was a white ambulance waiting for me. <em>

_They carried her out on a gurney, a sheet over her body. I couldn't see her. In the back of my mind, I was convinced it wasn't her._

_In the back of my mind, I pretended it was Aizen. In the back of my mind, my mother was very, very much alive, inside, waiting for me to draw her another picture, to make her another cup of tea, to give her pain medication._

_Anything. Anything but this._

_The two paramedics loaded her up with solemn faces. They were drones. They didn't care about my dead mother; she was just a body to them, another lifeless husk._

_She was a paycheck, a duty, something that was in the way; something that needed to be taken care of._

_Aizen came out the front door, looked at the ambulance before looking at me._

_I just kept staring at the ambulance, at the paramedics. They approached me, offered their condolences._

_She gave out. She just gave out. Her organs had been too strained. And the pain. She went in her sleep, son. She went peacefully. She went without the thought of pain._

_I didn't move. I didn't do anything. Aizen just stood there, looking all calm and composed. He was a monster, but I thought he still cared about my mother, maybe even loved her after all these years. Maybe that had been a lie as well, another illusion in his careful web._

_Aizen had always been good at creating illusions._

_They were taking her to the city morgue. Aizen would have to fill out the paperwork. We didn't have any money to bury her. 30,000 yen would cover the cost of cremation. It was our only option, the cheapest option._

_They handed Aizen a clipboard. He started signing a few things while the paramedics talked, talked, talked._

_My whole body was on fire. My head hurt._

_"Let me see her."_

_My voice didn't break. I wonder why._

_They led me to the back of the truck, opened the doors, pulled the sheet back from her face._

_I stared and stared and stared until my eyes got sore._

_I didn't touch her. I couldn't. My throat closed up._

_I turned and walked into the house, shut the door behind me._

_I went to my room. My shitty, useless room._

_I stood in the center of it, waiting._

_Waiting, waiting, waiting._

_It built and built and built up in my stomach, built until I thought I was going to die, and then I exploded._

_I screamed. I screamed and screamed and howled._

_I didn't have much to destroy, but I destroyed._

_Decimated._

_Raged._

_Tore._

_Shredded._

_The mirror. The lamp._

_My drawings. Every last one of them._

_My sketchbooks. Gone._

_My books. My music. Anything and everything._

_I couldn't stop. I couldn't._

_When I was finished, my fists went through the bedroom door, creating massive craters. I couldn't feel it._

_I heard the front door slam shut._

_Aizen._

_That was the only thing left. Then I knew I would feel better._

_I went to the kitchen._

_Grabbed a knife._

_"What are you doing!" Aizen bellowed._

_So simple._

_Long, blue hair covered the floor around me. I had shorn it to just below my ear, cutting my neck slightly in the process. It throb-throb-throbbed before I threw the knife across the kitchen and stormed out of the house._

_"Grimmjow!"_

_I didn't turn around._

_I didn't look back._

_If Aizen loved my fucking hair so much, he could keep it._

* * *

><p>I didn't go to work. I should have called, but I didn't.<p>

I didn't do anything.

I just wandered. There was nothing else for me to do.

People stared at me. Maybe it was my hair. Or my bleeding knuckles. It doesn't matter.

Eventually I showed up on Starrk's doorstep.

The door was locked.

I tapped once, twice. No response.

I started banging on the door harder, faster, getting angrier.

He had to be here. He _had _to.

The door finally opened with a low-mumbled curse, revealing a sleepy shirtless Starrk.

"Grimmjow, it's almost four-" he started but stopped when he took in my appearance, "Shit, what happened?"

I walk in, stumble past him, take a seat on the couch.

The numbness is wearing off.

I can't breathe again. My chest hurts too much.

"Starrk, is everything alright?" another voice says, a familiar body emerging from the dark bedroom. He's shirtless as well. I can almost smell the sex.

Urahara. I should be surprised, I guess. I didn't even know my boss was gay. He has a son that's only a couple years younger than me.

"Yeah, Kisuke," Starrk murmurs, coming around the side of the couch, "Don't worry about it."

I feel bad. I interrupted something. I should leave.

"I'll go," I say, getting up and heading for the door. It was stupid to come anyway.

I stiffen as Starrk grabs my forearm. I shake him off quickly; stunned that he would touch me.

He seems to realize his mistake. I can't stay here, though.

"We can be embarrassed later. What's wrong? You're a mess."

I sway slightly on my feet. I'm exhausted.

I don't care anymore.

I run my hands over my face, push my hair back.

Breathe.

I can't do this. I can't be here. I want to be somewhere else. I thought Starrk would be the one to make me feel better. I thought he'd be here alone, ready to help me, ready to tell me something I want to hear.

But life isn't like that. Friends can't always help you, don't always know what's best. Can't be in your shoes. Can't feel exactly what you feel, can't change what's happened.

I'm out the door before Starrk can talk enough sense into me to make me stay.

* * *

><p>I finally pass out in the park.<p>

My back hurts from the rough bench, but I don't care.

I must have slept most of the morning away because the sun is bright overhead.

I'm used to sitting silently. I must have sat in the park all day, watching kids run around and dogs chase sticks.

The world never stops. Not for anything. Life just keeps moving, moving, moving.

I finally get up, walk around, stretch.

I pull my wallet out of my back pocket, amazed I hadn't gotten mugged sometime during the night.

I look at the yen inside. Enough to get high.

I walk for about twenty minutes, find my usual lurk.

I buy off a kid that I've never seen before, but he's got what I want.

I pop two Vicodin and wait to be washed under.

I'm blessedly numb for hours.

Not a care in the world.

No hurt, no love.

I'm at peace.

I fall asleep. I lose track of time. I pop two more.

It's dark again. I don't care.

I wander, a ghost.

I feel in my pocket. A couple coins.

Nothing left.

All I know is it's late, it's dark, and my mom's dead.

I find a payphone. Slip in the last of my coins.

I dial the familiar number. I haven't talked on the phone in years, but I know his number by heart.

It rings only twice.

"Hello?"

"Starrk."

"Where the fuck are you?" Starrk growls into the receiver.

"I don't know…I don't know…"

"Are you high?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. Can you describe where you are? A street sign or something?"

I see a sign not too far away from me. I read it to him.

He stays on the line with me until my time runs out.

His black Honda Civic pulls up about five minutes after that.

He gets out of the car, approaches me. He looks really mad. I've never seen Starrk look this mad.

"I've been looking for you all day," he says. It's low, much more effective than yelling, "I went to your house. Aizen told me. Christ, Grimmjow, why did you leave last night? You could have talked to me."

I don't say anything. I can't say anything.

He sighs and tells me to get in the car.

He drives us back to his place. He gives me a big glass of water and makes me some ramen. When I'm done, he hands me another glass of water. I don't want to drink so much but he tells me to and I listen.

"What did you cut your hair with? An angry cat?"

"Knife."

He comes back from his room with a pair of silver scissors. He makes me sit on a stool in the kitchen as he starts cutting. I don't care what he does to it.

It feels like forever. The pile of hair on the floor keeps growing.

He stands in front of me and snips and ruffles my hair a few times with one hand. I realize I don't mind him touching me.

"You're my best friend," I say.

He smiles and lets go of my hair, "I better be, baka."

* * *

><p>After I take a shower and change into some of Starrk's jeans and a t-shirt and Starrk's done sweeping up my hair from the kitchen tile, he makes me drink another glass of water and sets me in front of the couch. We watch a couple movies together, Starrk actually managing to stay awake the entire time.<p>

I'm starting to feel raw on the inside.

Eventually we fall asleep. I have a dream about Ichigo.

When I wake up, I miss him.

I want to see him.

I look at the little clock on top of Starrk's entertainment system: almost four o'clock in the afternoon.

"What day is it?"

"Saturday," Starrk yawns.

Saturday. Three days.

I watch some more tv with him. Watch the minutes drag by.

By seven, I know where I really want to be.

I get up; go to the bathroom. Come back.

"I have to go."

Starrk looks like he might fight me on this one, "Where?"

"Ichigo's."

He looks surprised by my answer. Then he stands up and approaches me before holding a hand out, "Pockets."

I flip my pockets inside out, prove I have nothing on me, "I took the last of it last night. I don't have anymore."

He's still holding his hand out, flicking his fingers, "Wallet."

I give it to him. It's empty anyway and I won't need it where I'm going.

* * *

><p>I knock on Ichigo's door, anxious.<p>

I don't know why I am. I just know I want to see him. I'm starting to ache all over, and I want him near me.

I think I always want him near me.

The door opens.

It's not Ichigo.

Karin is staring at me with a vacant expression, "He's not here."

I keep looking at her, waiting for her to explain.

"Are you deaf or just stupid?" she says, starting to close the door, "Come back later."

I stop the door with one hand.

I don't think she likes the way I'm staring at her. Something flickers in her eyes.

_I see you. _

"He's your brother. You know where he is."

"I don't know," she says lowly, looking at my hand that's stopping the door, "I'm going to close the door now."

I turn my head towards the street.

The old neighborhood park. There's a chance he might be there.

I take my hand off the door.

As she's closing it, I say, "Stop punishing him. He's punished himself enough."

I don't stop to analyze her expression before I'm heading down the street.

* * *

><p>Ichigo's sitting on one of the swings when I get to the playground.<p>

My chest gets tight again. I feel hot.

I feel anything but numb.

_"You're important. You're very, very important, okay?" _

I approach him.

He finally lifts his head. He looks at me.

His eyes widen. I feel sweaty.

"Grimmjow."

I stop in front of him, keeping it together.

I don't know if I'll cry or not, and that scares me.

"My mom. She's dead."

Ichigo gets up from the swing, stares at me, "I'm going to hug you."

"Okay."

He slips his hands around my waist, locking them behind my back. He's solid against me, so warm.

His forehead is burrowed into my chest. I can't see his face.

"Ichigo?"

He hugs me tighter. I don't move.

I don't want to move.

Slowly, I put my hands on his hips, waiting.

Inside, I'm panicking.

I thought maybe he'd yell at me. Or hate me. Or tell me to go away. I hadn't seen him in a few days. Was he mad? Worried? Confused? Did he think I left him?

_Did he really think I would leave him?_

It's only then I realize that his tears are hot and soaking my shirt.

"Ichigo?"

"It's not fair," he mumbles, taking a step back, wiping at his face.

I drop my hands from his sides. I don't know what to do.

"It's not fair she died," he says, wiping at his face again. Fresh tears are ready to spill over, but they stay in, "It's not _fair_, Grimmjow."

I feel pale. Is he crying for Yuzu? Has he been alone all this time, making himself sick over his old demons, his scars?

"I really, really wanted to meet her."

It hits me that Ichigo's crying for my mom.

Ichigo's crying for my mom, a woman he's never even met.

I'm not even crying for her, not yet.

But he is.

Something inside of me moves, shifts, strains, breaks. I don't know what it is, but then my hands are on his face and I'm pressing my lips against his.

He gasps, shudders. My lips retreat.

I don't know if that even counted as a real kiss.

Ichigo's so soft. So warm.

I've never wanted somebody before, not like this.

So I reach my hand out for his, slide our palms together; link our fingers.

I don't want him to run. I don't want to be alone.

He doesn't say anything. I think he's caught up in the moment with me.

I realize I want him to be. Us, right here, like this.

The perfect silence.


	7. Chapter 7

_I want this relationship to be believable, but this chapter surprised me. I wanted to experiment with stitches and scars. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

><p><strong>'It's a shame that it had to be this way<strong>

**It's not enough to say I'm sorry, it's not enough to say I'm sorry**

**Maybe I'm to blame, or maybe we're the same, **

**but either way I can't breathe, either way I can't breathe.'**

**-Secondhand Serenade 'Goodbye'**

* * *

><p>Ichigo takes me back to his house.<p>

We go to his room.

We don't say anything, but I don't let go of his hand. I don't want to.

Kurosaki's my anchor. If I let go, I'll float away, I think.

He asks me if it's okay to touch my hair.

I just nod. His free hand tentatively reaches out and strokes the short hair above my ear. I order myself to remain calm, to not panic. My nostrils flare as his hand moves to my crown before dropping away.

"I like it short," he says.

His eyes are like caramel-coated apples with a hint of honey. I like that.

He lets go of my hand to turn on his stereo. It's a mix cd of some kind but I'm not really paying attention to what's playing. He asks me if it's okay if we just lie in his bed and listen to music.

"Okay."

So we lay there, side by side, our minds and eyes drifting until my hand nudges his again and he takes it.

I'm almost asleep when a soft guitar melody lulls me back to partial consciousness, enough to comprehend the lyrics:

_'And honestly I have been begging for answers_

_That you and only you can give to me_

_A voice crying loud, I've been crying for days now,_

_And as I start to run I start to breathe_

_And I was nearly scared to death (And I was nearly scared to death)_

_Why you left in paragraphs (why you left in paragraphs)_

_The words were nearly over us (the words were nearly over us)_

_You stop and turn and grab your bags…'_

It makes me grip Kurosaki's hand tighter, my chest hurting.

_'And I'll be here by the ocean just waiting for proof that there's sunsets and silhouette dreams_

_While my sand castles fall like the ashes of cigarettes and every wave drags me to sea…'_

"Grimm?"

I stiffen before pulling my hand out of his, staring up at the ceiling.

"Don't call me that."

He's silent for a moment, then, "Okay."

"Don't _ever_ fucking call me that."

"Okay."

I turn on my side to face him. He's looking at me and it almost hurts because I know, I just know I'm burying myself in him, that he's going to see how dirty I am someday.

_'As hours move to minutes_

_And minutes take longer to break_

_I will be desperately waiting_

_But my tongue won't fall apart_

_And we've been sitting here for hours all alone and in the dark…_

_So let me think of how to word it_

_Is it too soon to say 'perfect'?...'_

I'm so mad. I'm so mad but he's my anchor and I don't want to think about Aizen or my dead mom. I don't want to think about anything except how good Ichigo smells and how comfortable I am in his bed.

He slowly reaches a hand out, stroking through my bangs before dropping his hand on the pillow beside his face.

"Stay?"

The way he says it, asks it, shreds my heart.

I nod.

He goes back to stroking my hair until sleep pulls me under.

* * *

><p>When I wake up, I almost forget where I am.<p>

Kurosaki is so warm next to me. I'm on my back, Ichigo's forehead burrowed into my shoulder. He's breathing deep through his nose, passed out.

I shift my weight slightly to face him.

I've always wanted to touch his hair.

It's so bright and alive and warm, all things I'm not.

I can't help it. My hand reaches out.

It's bristly, kind of tough. I had thought it would be as soft as it looks.

My pointer finger traces over an eyebrow, the muscles in his face reacting instinctually.

Ichigo is fascinating.

I stroke his hair again, run a finger over his longish nose. My pinkie rests against his bottom lip before my thumb traces the sensitive flesh of his ear.

Ichigo's breath hitches, his eyes flutter.

Then he's staring at me, my fingers still tugging gently on his earlobe.

He blinks a few times, just watching me. My stomach squirms. My face gets hot.

I pull my hand away quickly and close my eyes. Childish, I know, but I don't know how to react. I didn't know how he would react.

I feel like I've betrayed him somehow. He always asks in advance if he can touch me. I hadn't. His trust was so important to me, yet I don't even know if I really have a grip on that trust at all.

"It's okay, Grimmjow, I…I like it."

My eyes open. The room is dark now but I can see him. I can feel his heat and his eyes and he's embarrassed but I don't know why.

So I have to ask, "I can touch you?"

He squirms a little bit, shifting his body weight to his other hip so that he's facing me fully now.

He nods, "If you want."

"I do."

"Okay."

I've never done this before. I want him in a way I've never wanted anybody, but I don't know what to do. He's special to me, I know that, but I shouldn't touch him. I don't deserve to touch him, but there's something about his willingness that makes me want him more.

My fingers run slowly through his hair again. He doesn't move. Soon, his breathing is hitching.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing."

I'm not convinced. Maybe he's uncomfortable with my touch.

I pull my hand away.

His fingers are soon coasting over mine, raising goose bumps on my arms. Encouraged, I move my hands over his, until I'm rubbing his arm in slow, tiny circles with two fingers. His breathing is all hitched again.

He stiffens slightly when my fingers explore the flesh of his wrists, working upwards past the long sleeves of his white t-shirt.

I stop when his breathing gets all funny and he's shaking like he's freezing.

His scars. I always forget about his scars. From the accident. From the cutting.

I hold his hand close to my face, brush my lips against his knuckles and hold his hand there.

He's not shaking anymore. He's staring at me with dark, wide eyes.

_I see you._

I turn his hand so that the inside of his wrist, the soft flesh there, is against my lips.

He pulls his arm away from me, his mouth worrying his bottom lip.

He looks mildly distressed, and I'm beginning to wonder if I did something wrong.

But then his hands are warm on my face.

His lips ghost over mine. We're breathing together.

His lips brush mine, feather soft.

And again, and again, until I'm drowning.

I don't think we're breathing. He feels so good, and I'm not scared.

My fingers are tangled in the front of his shirt, pulling him against me. I want to keep touching him but he doesn't feel close enough yet.

He kisses me again, but I want more.

More more more.

I tilt my head more; open my mouth.

He shivers as my tongue presses against his lips.

They part. Now my tongue is in his mouth.

I've never done this before. He's shivering again, his hips flex against mine.

My hips react to his. Teenage libido. Instinctual. Primal. Animal.

Even animals need to get off.

I can't remember the last time I got off. I never liked to touch myself, not with Aizen smirking in the back of my mind.

Ichigo brings me back to the present with his hands running through my hair, pulling me and pulling me, gripping hard.

I realize he's grinding against me now, both of us hard.

I don't know how to stop. I don't know if I can.

Something inside of me is screaming to stop.

Stop. Stop now, before I ruin everything.

We break for air but our lower halves never stop. A deep, hot coil in my belly.

Lower, lower, a race to finish.

"Grimmjow," Ichigo breathes, his hands sliding under my t-shirt. My abdominal muscles quiver at the unfamiliar touch, his fingers hot against my sweating skin.

He kisses me again, but I'm not with him anymore.

_"Good boy, Grimm."_

I hear myself growl when Ichigo's fingers tug on the edge of my jeans, his fingertips stroking the soft skin of my lower belly.

I don't think he hears me. He's as desperate to get off as I am, I think, but I can't do this.

He can't touch me. He shouldn't touch me. Not this body.

This dirty, weak body.

"Grimmjow."

I'm shaking, shaking everywhere. My chest hurts. My dick is still pounding, demanding. I want to throw up.

_You can't touch me. _

"Grimmjow, you're hurting me."

I don't know when I started gripping at his wrists, but I come back to myself enough to let go.

We're both breathing hard. He looks as upset as I feel. His eyes are trying to learn all my secrets and I panic.

I practically fall out of his bed, catching the floor with my knees and palms.

My throat burns. My eyes are blurring with tears as I start dry heaving.

_"Stop it, Grimm. Look at me."_

Kurosaki's there in an instant, rubbing my back.

My erection dies as I think of old pain, of Aizen's booze breath, of big hands touching me in places they should have never touched.

I always used to cry when he'd do those things until one day I just stopped.

Crying never made anything better. Crying never got him to stop. Crying didn't make me a human being or make anything matter.

But silence, silence disturbed him. Always had. Aizen liked to hear me make noise.

Kurosaki's still rubbing my back.

I press my forehead to the cool wood of the floor, breathe deeply in and out of my nose.

"I'm sorry," Kurosaki murmurs, still rubbing my back slowly, "I'm sorry, Grimmjow."

I make a choked noise in the back of my throat.

_"I'm so sorry, baby."_

I'm shaking again as sobs escape my chest.

_"I love you so, so much."_

Mom.

I'm smothered in Ichigo's warmth as he wraps his arms around my middle, his chest against my back, his forehead buried into my shoulder.

We stay like that for a long, long time.

* * *

><p>I don't know what I was thinking.<p>

I was drowning in him and I let it get to me.

I just wanted to touch him, touch him everywhere, and I still don't regret it.

Watching him cry like that, like a broken animal, did something to me. I didn't think it was possible, but it made me love him more.

I want to heal him. I want to heal him so bad, but I don't know how. It killed me when he froze, when his fingers locked around my wrists in a bruising grip, his face lost in dark shock and fear.

I'd never seen Grimmjow look so childlike, so genuinely scared.

And when he stumbled out of the bed, rocking on the floor, his forehead pressed to the wood, his spine trembling as he tried to control whatever is locked inside of him, I died.

I died like when Yuzu was taken away. I died with the scars and the cuts in the hot shower and I died with an empty, growling stomach. My ribs hurt, hurt, hurt watching him only for those few moments before I too got out of the bed, afraid to touch him, afraid to not touch him.

I started rubbing his back, hopefully comforting him. He sounded like he was going to throw up, but I didn't care. I just didn't want him to leave.

I told him I was sorry over and over, not sure what to say, or what I'd done. I know, deep down, I took it too far. I know I did, but I hadn't cared, and now I've ripped open his wounds, made them fresh, throbbing.

For a wild moment I want to escape. I think about my own healing scars, the cuts that still sting sometimes. Sometimes I think about my razorblade. Sometimes I think about sticking my finger down my throat.

And it's weird and it's scary and it's comforting because all I see are blue eyes and thin lips when I think about those things. I think about him more than I should, more than is healthy.

I'm in love. I know that.

I can't tell him in words yet, so I just hug him, hug him tight, like I might break him.

My dad's a doctor. Sometimes he has to break bones and reset them to make them heal right, to make sure they heal right.

I want to be Grimmjow's bone breaker. I want that more than anything, and it terrifies me that he might not need me as much as I need him.

I don't know how long we're on my floor in the dark, but he's quieting now. His breaths are long and deep, his back spasms are fewer and fewer between.

"You're really, really important, okay?" I whisper, my chest tight. My forehead is buried in his shoulder blade now. I don't know if he hears me. I hope he doesn't.

Suddenly I can't breathe. I took it too far. He doesn't want me to touch him. He hates me for that.

He's going to leave me.

He's going to _leave_.

"Don't leave," I say, trying to control my own breathing. I think my arms are shaking, "Don't leave, please don't leave. Don't leave don't leave don't leave…"

I'm nearly hysterical in my mantra.

"I won't."

I stop, gripping him harder. My chest is so tight I feel like I'm going to explode.

He leans back before starting to stand. I let go of him and sit back on my ass.

He's looking at me with red-rimmed dark blue eyes, but I can't touch him.

I feel numb, watching him.

He gets down on his haunches in front of me, looking at the floor while he speaks, "I've never touched somebody before. Not like this…like I want it."

My heart explodes.

I open my mouth.

"I love you," I blurt.

He meets my eyes. The tightness in my chest disappears.

He's not breathing, just staring. Maybe he didn't hear me.

"I love you," I repeat. I feel invincible.

* * *

><p><em>"I love you." <em>

I just shake my head. He didn't say that. He couldn't have.

The only person that ever loved me is dead.

Kurosaki is full of shit.

"Don't say that."

It comes out like venom.

"Okay."

_Okay?_

I push him until he's lying flat on the floor, my body covering his. I'm furious. Angry.

I grip his chin with one hand, my other hand dispersing my weight so that I don't crush his body.

"Don't _lie_ to me," I spit. I'm so mad, I'm so angry. I want to hurt him. I want to.

I want to beat him black and blue, make him see me. If he sees me being a monster, he'll stop lying. He won't love me. Nobody can love something this dirty, this useless. Even my mother didn't know the real me, what her husband made me become.

A hollow, human meat suit.

And he just says, "I'm not lying."

His heart is beating hard enough to break his ribcage.

Or is that mine? Ours?

"Do you believe me?"

I don't answer him. I get off of him and crawl into his bed.

Minutes later, he slides in next to me.

He makes no move to touch me.

My chest tightens again.

_I know you're not lying. _

I can't sleep. I just lie there, facing away from Kurosaki.

I'm embarrassed, frustrated, confused.

I don't know what I am, but I know I'm not in love with Ichigo.

I don't think I'm in love with Ichigo.

I don't dare think it.

Not yet.

* * *

><p>When I wake up, the bed is empty.<p>

I sit up, look around the room that had gradually become more and more familiar to me.

Kurosaki's a pretty messy kid. It's a contained chaos, though. I can tell what things are important to him, what things aren't.

There's a stuffed golden lion on the shelf next to his cd-covered desk. It's staring at me with black bead eyes.

Something about it makes me curious, pulls me. I couldn't tell you why I got out of bed, approached it, and picked it up.

A fine sheen of dust had settled in the plush yellow fur. It hadn't been touched in a while.

I didn't understand why it was on a shelf: it didn't look important, feel important.

I squeezed it's stomach.

_"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ICHI-NII!"_

The voice had been recorded, childlike. Excited. Happy.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Ichigo standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his hair wet.

He looks at the lion plushie, then back at me.

"Put it back."

I set it back on the shelf, connecting the dots in my head.

Yuzu.

Ichigo looks uncomfortable, stiff. He's still staring at the shelf, at the lifeless lion.

"I have to go," I say, ready to flee.

I can't deal with whatever Kurosaki's feeling right now. I can't face it. Not right now.

I know that sounds weak, but I just can't.

"Okay," he says, running a towel through his hair again.

He moves across the room, heading to his closet.

I'm at the doorway when he says, "Say hi to your dad for me?"

My blood runs cold. I'm freezing. I'm freezing and I feel like I've been stabbed.

I turn to look at him. I don't know what expression I have. I'm cold. Breathing hurts.

"Urahara gave me your address when I was looking for you. He invited me in..."

I want to throw up. He's hurting me.

Aizen...he met Aizen.

Aizen knows him, knows his face.

"...but I didn't stay."

I can't explain it in words. Kurosaki has just eviscerated me.

My guts are spilling out onto the floor, my throat closed off.

I'm shaking, shaking, shaking.

"He is _not _my father."

I think I scream it. I'm not sure.

"_Fuck you_, Kurosaki."

And then I'm gone.

* * *

><p>I walk into <em>BENEHIME MUSIC<em>.

I pass Starrk, who's asking me something but I can't hear him because I'm too angry.

Urahara walks out from the storeroom, holding some envelopes, "Oh, Grimmjow, you're here, good -"

My fist makes a strange, slick sound as it slams into the side of Urahara's face.

He reels back, completely surprised. He's still holding the envelopes, his free hand against his cheek. It's bright red and I hope it bruises.

"Grimmjow, what the hell?" Starrk grabs my arm, planting himself between me and Urahara.

"He _knows!" _I bellow. I've never been this loud. Ever.

The few customers in the shop have been staring silently since the punch. Starrk's face is nothing but confusion.

"You had no _right! No right, _Urahara," I hiss, pushing Starrk's hand away from me.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Starrk asks, looking from me to Urahara, but I'm done here.

The anger is being replaced by guilt, by shame.

I need to get out of here.

I leave, hoping I can lock all these strange emotions back in the bullshit box.

It's not Urahara's fault he was worried about me. He's a good boss, a good man. It's not his fault that Ichigo was worried. It's not anybody's fault that I'm too weak to face my demons.

Because that's what I am, _weak._

* * *

><p>It's over a week later that Kurosaki approaches me at school.<p>

He sits next to me on the rooftop, watching me.

I say nothing.

"Where have you been?" he says.

I don't know what he's talking about.

My life is a shit storm: I go where it takes me.

I lost my mom. I collected my last check from Shuhei. Combined with some other saved up money, I'd had enough to cremate her.

Aizen had signed her body over to the state. If I hadn't come up with the money in time, her body would have been turned over to science.

He hadn't cared what happened to her body, but I had.

Yesterday, I'd scattered her ashes at the beach. It had taken me hours to walk there and back, but I didn't care.

It's what she would have wanted.

Her silver cross was all I had left.

It was around my neck now, under my school shirt, burning through my skin.

It was the only thing of value she'd left behind, the only thing Aizen hadn't been able to pawn for her medicine or his alcohol.

I'd hidden it a few months before she died, wanting to keep it safe, knowing he'd take it.

He can't have it. Over my fucking dead body.

"Did you...bury her?"

I look at him. I don't know why he's here. He shouldn't be here.

_Don't pretend you care. Don't pretend you give a damn. _

"No," I say, before standing up and starting to walk away from him.

He follows me, "Grimmjow."

I don't want to hear it. I don't want anything anymore. Doesn't he get that?

"Why'd you quit? Urahara would understand; he knows you need time-"

I turn on him. He needs to understand. He needs to get it. Now, while I have the strength, while the cross of my dead mother is burning into me, marking me forever.

My voice is low, lethal.

"If you ever come near my house again, I'll kill you."

Dramatic silence.

"That's what this is about?" he finally chokes out, "You're pissed I went to your _house_? That I saw your - that man?"

"No, it's more than that."

_I'm a monster, Kurosaki. I'll rip you apart with my fangs someday._

"Then what?" he's getting angry now, I can see it shifting in his face, "I'm sorry I did that, but I needed to find you -"

_I don't have anything to give you. Stop worshipping me. I'm not a god, I'm not a man. I'm not anything. _

"...and I didn't mean to say it when I did, I just did, and I don't know what you're thinking right now, but I care about you, and I won't ever say it again if it makes you that upset..."

_Stop. _

"I don't want it."

Ichigo's whole body stiffens. I've shot him. I know that.

I have to say it more clearly, sink the slug deeper, "You're pathetic."

He's staring at me with his mouth open. I've never seen him look this shocked.

Like I'm the one who killed his sister.

It hurts. I'm surprised by how much it hurts.

"This isn't a game, Kurosaki. I'm not playing around. Stay away from me."

* * *

><p>It's my fault.<p>

This is all my fault.

I never should have said it.

I never should have told him I loved him.

I took it too far.

I let him have his space, knowing he was probably dealing with burying his mom. I stayed away, even though my blood itched to hunt him down and see him again.

I'd given in and went to _BENEHIME MUSIC _the day before, asking after him, hoping he'd be there.

He wasn't. Shuhei had told me he'd quit.

I couldn't believe it. There was no way Grimmjow would ever quit this job. He loved it too much. This was his life.

Shuhei said he didn't know the details, only that Starrk was being irritable and Urahara was being quiet. Jinta didn't know anything either.

But Grimmjow was right.

I _hadn't _had any right to go to his home uninvited. I hadn't even known where he lived before sticking my nose in a file where it didn't belong. If I hadn't known Urahara for practically my whole life, I never would have gotten the information in the first place.

I thought maybe that had had something to do with it, but I hadn't thought that would be the complete reason. I figured Grimmjow needed time away, space from the buzz of life to deal with his mom's death.

I hadn't blamed him, I'd just missed him.

So, really, all of this was my fault.

Not only that, I'd managed to fall in love.

How stupid.

_"I don't want it."_

Me? My heart? Love? It's all the same, isn't it?

_"This isn't a game."_

No, it most certainly isn't.

_"Stay away from me."_

Oh God. Impossible.

He's walking away from me now, heading down the stairs that lead back to civilization.

I can't move.

_This is real. This is really happening._

I stand forever before I dash down the stairs, down the hallway, into the boy's bathroom.

I'm heaving and heaving. I feel like I'll never stop throwing up.

When I'm done, I feel sick all over again.

_"...I'll kill you."_

I sit on the tile floor against the toilet, tears streaming down my face.

_Fuck, Grimmjow, you already have._

* * *

><p><em>"And every - everything isn't only what it seems, so hold these words that you never told me<em>

_It's time to say goodbye, it's time to say goodbye (it's time to say goodbye) _

_Goodbye..."_

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is a romance, although it is not romantic right now. We'll get there, I promise._


	8. Chapter 8

_Having a bad week. Maybe that explains the absurdity of this chapter. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter Eight.**

* * *

><p><strong>"I've been watching your world from afar<strong>

**I've been trying to be where you are**

**And I've been secretly falling apart**

**To me, you're strange and you're beautiful."**

**-Aqualung 'Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You)'**

* * *

><p>School is a blur.<p>

It's the only reason I leave my room.

My arms itch and itch.

But I don't. I don't because when I close my eyes, I only see blue ones staring back.

He'd hate me for it.

* * *

><p>He'd hate me.<p>

He doesn't know what I really am.

He doesn't know Aizen. He doesn't know monsters.

I won't let him know monsters.

Keep him away.

Keep him safe.

* * *

><p>I keep having dreams.<p>

Some good, some not so good.

Blue eyes and burning skin.

I want to touch him, but he isn't here.

* * *

><p>I'm not here.<p>

I'm not anywhere.

I don't talk. I barely eat.

Because no one is like him.

No one.

But I can't have him.

I can't.

* * *

><p><em>Why can't I have him?<em>

He makes me angry.

The few glimpses at school are not enough.

Grimmjow will sit with Gin, silent.

Is he as dead as I am?

I hope not.

I love him too much.

* * *

><p>"You're pathetic," Starrk says.<p>

I wanna tell him to fuck off but I don't. He's tired of me moping around his apartment when I'm not at school or at home with the monster. He's tired of me not sleeping at night and skipping school more than twice a week. He's sick of me being a coward and an idiot but he doesn't understand why I'm doing it.

I know why I'm doing it. I know why.

"It's been a month. You're not dropping out of school. I'll kick your ass."

I lift my head off of the couch and crane my neck to stare at him. He's sitting on one of the black barstools by the kitchen bar area looking over a music magazine.

He's serious. I know he is. He doesn't look it, but Starrk could easily beat my ass into the pavement and walk away with a yawn.

"I need a new job," I say.

"No you don't. You're just being stubborn," Starrk replies, sipping on some of his hot smelly tea I don't like. I don't know how he drinks it, but it's a habit he developed years ago.

He's turning into an old man right in front of my eyes.

"Urahara doesn't want me back."

Starrk flips a page of the magazine, "He never fired you. As far as he's concerned, you're on leave for your mom. Don't be a dick and drag this out. A real man would just suck it up and apologize."

I'm agitated. Starrk always makes everything sound so simple, easy. Docile. He looks like a lazy, sleepy bastard, but he knows more about anything than anybody I know.

And I hate him for it: he makes me feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

It makes me mad. Makes me say, "We can't all sleep with our bosses."

He doesn't get mad. I want him to. It'd be nice.

I've been feeling a lot of anger lately. At the world, at Aizen, at myself.

At Ichigo. Not at Ichigo.

_"You're really, really important, okay?"_

I've been thinking about it a lot. About what I said. How crushed he looked when I left the rooftop that day forever ago. Feels like forever ago.

_"I love you."_

My chest feels tight again.

Starrk finishes his mug of tea, scoots the stool back, stands up with his magazine.

And he shrugs, "Yah, so I sleep with my boss. Not the end of the world. I'm not naïve enough to think he'll ever settle down, but you can't help who you fall in love with. It's not anybody's fault, is it?"

I fucking hate Starrk.

Starrk won't let me run. He's too good of a friend for that.

Even if I'm being a complete dickhead, he won't let me run.

I'm the one who walked away from Ichigo.

This thought has been making me sick for weeks.

Starrk's heading for his bedroom when he says, "Everybody's a monster. Just depends on what kind of monster you are, and you, Grimmjow, have some serious issues to work out with that boy."

"Shut up."

"You love him."

"Shut _up_."

"Won't make it any less true."

His bedroom door clicks shut.

I lay on the couch until I'm sick of it.

I get up. Put on some shoes.

God.

Holy fucking shit.

Starrk's never wrong.

* * *

><p>My bedroom door opens.<p>

I look up from my book. It's Karin.

She looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

"Hi," I finally say, not knowing what else to say.

What is there to say? I've apologized to her hundreds of times in my heart and in my head. I've listened to her scream and cry. Sometimes I can still hear her cry. I never see her cry, though. That's the difference.

Her dark eyes finally lock on my face, "I threw up today."

I instantly feel sick. I'm horrified. I want to run away.

She isn't sick. Not in a physical sense. I know what she's telling me. Why she's telling me, I don't want to know.

She's rubbing at her arm now, her eyes somewhere to the left of my head now, "I heard you a couple times. Wanted to try it."

I sit up on my bed, run my hands over my face. I can't look at her. If I look at her, I'm afraid I'll see Yuzu looking back at me.

"It didn't change anything," Karin says, "It didn't make me feel better. It makes your throat burn and your stomach hurt."

I still don't know what to say. I'm so disgusted right now I want to drop out of my window.

"How can you do it?" she says in a weakening voice, "Was he right? Are you punishing yourself?"

I feel like I've been electrocuted.

"I stopped," I say lowly, swallowing a few times to gain nerves, "Sometimes I couldn't help it, Karin. Dad shouldn't be saying stuff like that –"

"It wasn't dad."

The way she says it I know instantly who it is. He's got wild blue hair and incredible deep eyes. He has a way of talking with silence that made me feel like I'd finally come home. It was the same guy that started fixing me and ended up breaking my heart.

"Grimmjow."

She nods once. We're silent for a minute until she approaches my bed, stopping about a foot away from me.

"Don't ever do that again. Do you understand me?" she says, her voice breaking at the end. Her eyes are filling with unshed tears, "Yuzu would kill you. Do you hear me? She's probably been crying all this time, watching you from heaven, you _idiot!_"

Nothing dramatic happens. She doesn't throw herself at me and we hug until everything from the past year and a half is gone and behind us.

She doesn't apologize to me or ask for another one of my apologies. She doesn't tell me I'm her brother and she'll always love me, but I know it anyway because here she is crying, angry, worried.

She's standing here alive, worried about me.

"Never do it again! Don't make her sad, or she won't watch you anymore!"

Then she leaves my room. I watch her go in silence.

_Karin. Mom. Dad. Yuzu._

I'm such an idiot.

She's already gone, but I say it anyway.

"She's been watching you too."

* * *

><p>I walk into <em>BENEHMIE MUSIC.<em>

There isn't a single customer. It's a weird time of day when most people are eating dinner. For once I wish I was surrounded by customers.

Urahara sees me.

I don't make eye contact as I approach him.

"Shuhei, mind finishing up that inventory for me?" he says.

Shuhei takes his cue to clear out gracefully. I wait.

It's ironic. For once, silence is bothering me.

So I just say it.

"I'm sorry. How I acted. I'm sorry."

There's a moment of silence, and then he says, "You really think I'm going to let you off that easily?"

Shit. So I really can't come back.

"You work three to eleven tomorrow."

I look at him. For an insane moment, I want to hug him, but I don't.

"Okay."

"I'm not finished," he says, "Before then, I want you to check on my nephew."

Nephew? I didn't even know Urahara had any family outside of Jinta.

"Ichigo's father is like a brother to me. You think I would have handed your address out to anybody? If you want to continue working here, Grimmjow, you need to realize that you're part of a family. We take care of each other."

I nod, not knowing how to feel.

_"I love you."_

If Starrk saw it, then maybe Urahara sees it too.

"I understand."

"Excellent and, uh, just to let you know, I'm quite serious about Starrk."

Urahara rubs the back of his neck. He looks a little flustered.

"That's great."

He looks a little surprised. I didn't think my boss would ever be embarrassed of anything I would ever think. I know Starrk has been sneaking out when I choose to spend the night and he thinks I'm asleep.

"Oh, okay. I didn't know if Starrk said anything to you, so…just wanted you to know."

_He loves you. _

I should tell him that, but I don't.

After all, I have no right to talk.

* * *

><p>By the time I reach Ichigo's house, it's dark.<p>

The streetlights are on and it's a little chilly but I'm not cold.

I don't even know what I'm doing. I don't know what I'm going to say.

I just want to see him.

I want him to touch my hair and hold my hand.

I want to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

I feel like my body has been starving.

That's been my problem. I've been starving.

I've been starving my whole life and didn't even know it. The hollow hole has been screaming.

It falls silent when the door opens, revealing Masaki.

Her face lights up, "Grimmjow, hi sweetheart."

I swallow a lump in my throat. I miss my mom so much.

"Is Ichigo home?"

"He stepped out. I sent him to the store for a few things. He should be back soon though if you want to come in here and wait."

"No, it's okay, thanks."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes look just like Ichigo's, "I'm glad you stopped by."

The way she says it, I think she knows. I think she sees.

Maybe.

* * *

><p>I walk down the block, walk back, pace a little bit.<p>

I said I didn't want to go inside. I didn't think I'd be able to say what I had to say with an audience.

I didn't know if Ichigo would want an audience, either.

"Grimmjow?"

I stop. I turn.

He's standing on the other side of the narrow street with two plastic grocer's bags. He's wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with a strawberry on it. He doesn't look like he's changed. I don't know why I thought in a month he'd look different.

I'm glad he doesn't.

He's not moving.

So I cross the street, stand in front of him.

And.

I.

Just.

Say.

Everything.

"I can't stay away from you. I just can't."

He's quiet. I can hear him breathe.

He licks his lips, makes eye contact with me, "Why?"

My hands are in my pockets.

I'm not going to run. I'm not weak. I'm stronger than I used to be, aren't I?

"I trust you. I want to be with you, around you. I don't deserve you, but I want you. That's all I can think about."

It feels like hours before he says, "Let me put these groceries away."

"Okay."

I watch him go across the street.

Go inside the house.

I wait.

About fifteen minutes later, he comes back outside, crosses the street, stands in front of me.

He's looking at me with those caramel apple eyes, and I know I'm finished.

For once, I feel my seventeen years.

I'm young, I'm old, I'm impossible, but I don't care.

I'm buried, I'm deep, and I'm never going back.

No more running.

No more hiding.

No more excuses.

* * *

><p><em>'I'll put a spell on you...and you'll realize that you love me...'<em>

* * *

><p><em>AN: I don't want Grimmjow to say it yet. He might be recognizing his feelings, but I don't think he's quite there yet. Or maybe that's my excuse to keep this chapter from being complete and utter fluff. I'm tired. Goodnight. -TPP_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delay. School is really starting to get in the way. I don't know when I'll be able to update again. Hopefully I didn't disappoint with this chapter. I have a feeling I will. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

><p><strong>'Come on, you can show yourself,<strong>

**So come close (this is who we are)**

**Come on, you can show yourself,**

**So come close (this is who we are)**

**Come on, you can be yourself again.'**

**–Saosin 'Come Close' acoustic version**

* * *

><p>We don't do much. Nothing, really, but it doesn't matter.<p>

I just want to be around him. If I was near him, it was enough.

He got tired of me apologizing, so I stopped. I keep forgetting that Ichigo isn't a weak person. I keep forgetting that he is stronger than me.

I find myself in class dying to hold his hand.

I find myself thinking about his freckles and his laugh and his warmth and his everything.

I'm so overwhelmed I feel like I'm going to die.

I don't deserve him, I don't, and that just makes me want him more.

One day after school he asks me to come over. I don't have work that day, so I do.

The house is quiet. Apparently Isshin is working late at the clinic today and Masaki is at one of Karin's soccer tournaments.

We watch tv for a while without really watching. Then his head is leaning on my shoulder and he's solid and warm and I feel amazing so I let him lay there.

He plays with one of my hands as I try to focus on the television. He keeps rubbing his fingers over my palm, back and forth, back and forth, then locks our fingers together.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

"Ichigo."

He lifts his head off of my shoulder to look at me and my forehead bumps against his. He feels warm, like he has a fever.

He's breathing against my mouth.

I shift closer, brushing our lips together. Soft.

His breathing is all shaky, his fingers on either side of my face as he kisses me.

Really kisses me.

I love this feeling.

Ichigo shudders and stops, his hands on my chest now, "Grimmjow?"

I don't know what he's asking, but my body seems to know what he wants. I kiss his forehead, his lips, his neck, then rest my forehead against his. We're facing each other on the couch now, his legs splayed over top of mine and I just breathe for a minute because I'm overwhelmed.

"Grimmjow, do you want to go to my – my bedroom?"

Ichigo almost whispered it. I ache all over.

I realize I want to.

I want to I want to I want to.

I grab his hand gently, lift it to my face and kiss the soft skin of his palm.

_I want you. So much. _

He hears me.

We get up from the couch, fingers locked.

He leads me up the dark stairway to his bedroom.

He closes the door behind him.

This makes me feel trapped. Nervous.

My breathing speeds up as he approaches me, kissing me again.

He's slowly corralling me towards his bed, distracting me with his kisses.

I fall back. He falls on top of me. His weight is not bad. I like it.

_Everything will be okay._

I want to believe that.

One of my hands moves through his hair to the back of his neck, tugging gently as our tongues tangle.

Then he's kissing my neck, his hands wandering across my chest. He starts popping the buttons on my shirt, popping them until its parted and his hands can make the flesh of my chest hot.

Too hot. I move my hips.

He groans, breathing heavily against my neck.

He sits up on my hips, his thighs exposed by his mesh shorts that have managed to ride up.

With a few tugs, he lifts his white long-sleeved t-shirt over his head.

I've never seen this much of Ichigo before, but he is much healthier. Still lean, but not as skinny as he was.

He seems frozen by my stare, his arms at his sides. Angry, fading red marks stare back at me. The scars from the accident. The scars from his anger, his hurt.

For a moment he looks like he's drowning, so I reach a hand up and run it down his chest.

He's practically shaking when I say, "Mine."

He's beautiful, but he's mine.

This realization makes my hand travel lower, lower.

My hand runs over the bulge in his shorts. He gasps lowly and rocks forward, his hands on my chest as he kisses me.

I don't know how much of this I can take. I don't know where this is going to go.

I don't know if I can take Ichigo there yet, and that scares me.

"Can we…" Ichigo trails off, his fingers grazing over my belt.

My jeans are tight. I'm hard for him. I want him.

I sit up. He's still straddling me. My hands move on their own, sliding across his hips until I'm tugging on the waistband of his shorts.

I keep eye contact with him as I slowly start to slide my hands down and back, the shorts sliding down, down until I feel my bare hands graze the cool skin of his butt.

He shudders, his forehead against mine as he digs his knees into the mattress and lifts his hips, allowing his shorts to travel farther down his legs. He hooks his arms around my neck as he leans back, extending one of his legs and bending with me so I can slide the material sideways and off one leg.

Then the other.

He's sitting in front of me now, legs splayed out on either side of my thighs, naked.

My eyes travel downward and I'm not panicking. Ichigo's skin is turning rose-colored, his face flushed, his mouth open, his chest heaving.

He's hard and naked and I'm still mostly dressed.

"Stop staring at me like that," he mumbles, his hands now running down my arms back and forth, back and forth before he gets the nerve to start sliding my arms through until the shirt is completely off me.

His hands feel small against my pecs, my shoulders, everywhere. I have more muscle than him, but he was still getting better. I try to imagine a really ripped Ichigo.

I can't. I like him like this, healing and getting healthy.

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he sighs, leaning in for another kiss.

His fingers slide down my chest, over my abdomen.

I'm hard and aching and I want to feel his hands.

"More."

"Okay."

He loosens my belt.

Tugs on the zipper.

A flash in the back of my mind.

Aizen's face.

I close my eyes and grab Ichigo's face with both hands, tugging him to me and kissing him like this is my last chance.

_I need you. I need you I need you. _

He senses it. He senses the panic. I know he does.

He pulls back slightly, hands still on my hips, "Grimmjow?"

I shake my head. Banish Aizen from my mind.

Trapped. He's making me trapped.

I move his legs off of me, tell him everything is okay before I move off the bed to stand up and remove my jeans. It would have been too hard trying to wrestle out of them on the bed anyway.

Ichigo's staring at me like I matter.

Like I'm somebody.

Like I'm not dirty or disgusting or unwanted.

So I slip my boxers off and climb back into bed, settling my body beside him.

We face each other.

He runs his hands over me gently, carefully. He knows.

He doesn't know exactly why, but he knows to be careful.

This is the moment I realize I love him.

This is the moment I will remember for the rest of my life.

So I kiss him. I kiss him and kiss him until we're flush against each other, heat to heat.

He throws his leg over my hip, rolling us, straddling me again, only this time we both shudder and gasp.

Our cocks are leaking against each other, throbbing between us.

Ichigo wraps his hands around us.

He starts stroking.

I arch my back, my fingers digging into his hips, my legs shaking as he starts panting.

We're both writhing, my hips instinctually grinding up against his until my mind starts wandering again.

My ass starts throbbing.

_"You like this, Grimm. You want me inside you." _

I push against Ichigo's chest almost violently, knocking the air out of him as he moves over off my hips.

We're both breathing heavy as I think about what I just did.

Ichigo looks hurt. Almost as hurt as when I told him I didn't want him.

_"Pretty little whore." _

"I…I…" No other words come. I cover my cock with my hands.

_Hide. Hide hide hide._

"Hey," Ichigo says, scooting closer to me but not touching me, "Hey, don't – please don't cry, baby. Don't cry."

I was crying. I felt the wetness on my face now, but I wasn't sobbing.

My chest was starting to hurt. My cock began to soften.

_Breathe. Breathe. _

Ichigo wrapped his arms around me, kissing my face over and over again until I could breathe without my chest hurting.

"I love you, Grimmjow. I love you just like this. I don't care."

_I see you. _

We laid down together, facing each other, our foreheads nearly touching.

We just stared. I don't know how long.

His eyes started to flutter. He was getting tired.

"I'm sorry, Ichigo."

"It's my fault. To be honest, I don't think I'm ready either."

He ran his fingers through my hair before dropping his hand. I grabbed that hand gently, turning his wrist so that I could see the scars farther up his forearms.

I kissed the scars over and over again, until he let out a loud breath and closed his eyes.

"Are you mad?" I say.

He opens his eyes, his face serious, "No, Grimmjow. Absolutely not."

I snuggle closer to him until we're against each other, our cocks rubbing.

I feel him jolt, "Grimmjow…"

"I want you, Ichigo. I just don't know how yet," I say lowly, my fingers wrapping around our cocks. It takes only a few strokes to get hard, his breath catching in his chest as he pushes himself against me.

A couple minutes later we're rocking our hips into each other, fighting for release. He's sweaty against me. He kisses me, arms around my neck, and I like it.

He bites my bottom lip and whines, bucking against me as his whole body shivers.

Sticky. Wet. He came.

His hands run over my nipples.

I grunt and cum.

We wrap up in each other. Young, alive, and in love.

God. I never want it to end.

I don't know how long we lay post coitus, kissing languidly and just touching, but eventually the cum is dry and itching.

We get up from the bed. Ichigo takes me to the shower.

He's on his tiptoes washing my hair, his caramel eyes lighter somehow, skin red from the heat of the shower, making his freckles stand out more when the words leave my mouth.

"I love you."

Ichigo stiffens, his hands stopping movement against my head. I feel the soap running down my neck.

I kiss him on the corner of his mouth, then the other corner, "I love you, Ichigo."

_I love you I love you I love you. _

He tugs me to him, making a strange whining sound in the back of his throat as he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me.

I feel him getting hard against me.

I groan. My crotch and ass start throbbing at the same time.

_No. This is Ichigo. This is different. So, so different and right. _

Ichigo drops to his knees. I look down at him, uncomprehending as he slides his hands to the backs of my thighs, his mouth hovering over my cock.

"Ichigo…"

"Let me do this."

He doesn't wait.

He slides his tongue over my shaft. Then more and more until his mouth is tight around me, his hands having moved to cup my ass.

My legs feel like they're going to give out from under me as I feel myself buck forward, making him gag slightly. He recovers and swallows me again.

I feel one of his fingers run across the crack of my ass.

I shiver, my fingers tugging at his hair.

He slides the tip of one wet soapy finger into my ass.

My legs shake.

I practically scream as I cum, Ichigo pulling off of my cock as the water continues to beat down on us.

I lean against the wall of the shower until I think I can stand straight, my vision clearing to stare at Ichigo.

He was standing now, looking unsure of himself, "Did you like it?"

Then I think about it.

My body had accepted it.

It should have felt wrong.

Aizen had barely ever used his fingers.

The pain. Aizen had always been about pain.

Was this what Ichigo wanted? Was this what I wanted?

Too much to think about.

I kiss him on the mouth before I say, "Anything you do feels good."

This answer is enough for him.

Then I beat him off with my hand. It doesn't take long. He makes amazing faces when he cums.

I hadn't really planned on it, but it didn't seem fair to leave him aching when he had been so generous with me.

We go back to his room. I put on my boxers and Ichigo slips into his pajama pants.

We crawl into bed, his back against my chest, my arm hanging over his hip and across his belly, holding him.

He falls asleep before me, probably content that I hadn't run away from the house after what we'd done tonight.

I don't know what's wrong with me. I love Ichigo.

But he's going to want more. Eventually he's going to want to be inside me, if his actions in the shower are anything to go by.

And I don't know if I can give that to him.

* * *

><p><em>'I've been trying to let you know, so come close…'<em>

* * *

><p><em>AN: If you are simply going to whine over the possibility of Ichigo potentially topping at least once, don't bother reviewing. Designating a top and bottom for a gay sexual relationship, I've found, is very ignorant and naive. _


	10. Chapter 10

_Quick chapter update. Was itching to get this out. In case you're confused, it's a bit of a time skip from the last chapter. A few months. I want to take this story to the next level, so it was necessary. Dedicated to a special someone because they deserve it and I promised them an update of this story first. -TPP_

**Perfect Silence**

**Chapter Ten.**

* * *

><p><strong><em>"Maybe it'll all work out like in the movies..."<em>**

**_-Mayday Parade_**

* * *

><p>Grimmjow is incredible.<p>

More than incredible. He's become everything to me.

I feel like a horse, the ones that have blinders on them, those strips of leather that only allow the horse to see forward, its peripheral vision blocked.

And Grimmjow's all I see. All the time. Everywhere.

You'd think this would drive me crazy, but it doesn't.

If anything, it makes me want him more.

It's not that bullshit puppy love. I've seen that before. I know what that is and I know what this isn't.

What me and Grimmjow have, it's nothing like that at all.

I don't know what to call it because it's more than love.

It's more than lust, although that's certainly part of it. I crave him all the time.

I crave him more than I crave redemption, more than forgiveness, more than razor blades.

It's been months and months since I've done that. I started jogging with Tatsuki again, like the old days when we ran track together.

It was difficult at first. I'd been so weak before, but my body was starting to adjust again, remold itself. I was developing muscles in all the old places they used to be. I wasn't as pale as before.

I think it was more from sitting outside with Grimmjow than anything else.

I feel so…domesticated.

We saw each other at school. We sat together at lunch. If he had work, I went home and busied myself with college applications and tried not to think about him.

High school graduation came in the blink of an eye. I applied to several colleges to appease my parents, but I already knew where I'd be going.

Grimmjow only applied to one school and one school only: the local community college. It was the only place he would have a prayer of getting accepted and the tuition payments would be less stressful on him, considering he was going to have to move out of Starrk's sooner or later. Apparently Starrk and his boyfriend were getting serious and Grimmjow felt awkward about it.

Grimmjow's high school records hadn't been received well, so he was taking remedial night classes to retake the college entrance exam. I had gotten in quickly, along with nearly every other college I had applied to, but I knew it wasn't a contest.

I would go to the same college. I would stay with Grimmjow.

And no, it's not because I think he couldn't handle the separation, that I have to be around to protect him. It's because I know _I _couldn't handle the separation, because I know I couldn't handle not seeing him as much as I've gotten used to seeing him.

I know it's a little too optimistic: I know this road won't be easy. I haven't even asked him if he wants to live in the dorms with me, if he wants to be my roommate.

I haven't asked him if he wants to be with me forever. I don't want to ask him that yet.

I have to slow down, I know that, but it's just _so hard. _

Grimmjow's gotten under my skin, breathed into my blood.

We kiss and hold hands and sometimes he even initiates it.

Those are the moments where I love him the most.

Because he's trying, because I know there's something dark inside of him that is keeping him from giving himself completely over to me.

Something I want to save him from, but don't know how.

I love him enough, respect him enough, not to push the sex.

But I'm not going to lie. It's hard.

It drives me crazy sometimes, how much I want him. Just to touch him, not knowing if I'll be received or refused. That's what hurts. That's what scares me.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he kisses me like he'll never get the chance to do it again. Other times, there's this look in his eyes like he's in physical pain, like he needs a morphine drip.

I've been thinking about it ever since that night in my bed, since the night where he didn't leave me but we crossed a boundary I want to keep exploring.

He hasn't run away from me. Not yet.

I won't let him. I won't let him run anymore.

And if he does run, this time, I'll be able to catch him.

* * *

><p>Sometimes it scares me the way Ichigo looks at me.<p>

Like he knows what Aizen did to me.

I know that's impossible: how could he guess? How could he know?

Other times I see something in his eyes that reminds me of my mother, something soft and beautiful and unstoppable.

I love him.

That's all that should matter.

It should be enough.

_So why isn't it enough? _

The door to the shop opened. I didn't look up from my organizing, but I heard Jinta's low voice as he greeted whoever had walked in.

A girl's voice answered. It sounded familiar, so I looked up.

_Karin._

I'd never seen her in the store before, but it made me think that Ichigo was with her, so my expectations instantly rose. I was supposed to come over for dinner but most days Ichigo would meet me here and walk with me back to his house.

It was still a bit early, though: only four o'clock or so. I didn't get off for another two hours, so maybe Karin had come on her own. She was fifteen, after all.

I looked between her and Jinta, noticing his jerky hand movement as he ran his fingers continuously through his hair. Karin was still talking to him lowly, her cheeks red.

Ah. So that was it.

"Karin-chan, so nice to see you," Urahara chimed from across the store, waving jovially from one of the funky chairs where he was sipping on some hot tea, "What brings you by on such a beautiful day?"

"H-hi, Uncle Kisuke," she half-whispered, feeling put on the spot by her father's best friend. He had insisted they call him that since they were practically babies, "Um…just stopped by for, uh…"

"I told her the imports were being delivered today," Jinta covered, nodding his head towards the rack that displayed most of the new imported releases, "You were looking for Never Shout Never's '_Time Travel'_, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," Karin replied, hurrying over to the rack and picking up a copy and holding it as if it would shield everyone in the room from noticing her true intentions, "I like this band a lot."

"Excellent," Urahara said with a knowing chuckle, "It _is_ a good cd, yeah? I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as the cd will enjoy you."

Jinta and Karin looked at each other, both looking pretty uncomfortable before Jinta murmured that he had some stuff to do in the storeroom and headed for the back.

I caught Karin's eyes and whispered hello. Karin approached me, her cheeks seeming to get redder and redder by the second.

"Um, Grimmjow, I know I don't have any right to ask this, but…" Karin started, her voice low so Urahara wouldn't overhear, "Could I borrow some money?"

I could have embarrassed her further. I could have asked her how she had planned on buying a cd without bringing any money to pay for it, but I wouldn't, because I knew what it was like to desperately want to see somebody you wanted.

"Yeah," I murmured, fishing some yen out of my back pocket and passing it to her when Urahara was thoroughly distracted, "No problem."

"I'll pay you back. I promise."

She headed for the counter to pay, Urahara all smiles as he rang her up with a special employee discount. She glanced at the storeroom once before turning towards the front door and leaving.

"Ah, young love," Urahara sighed once Karin was officially gone, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

There was no one else in the store, so I assumed he was addressing me. I didn't say anything though because his eyes told me he was teasing.

I felt heat rush to my ears and face before telling him to shut up and getting back to my job.

* * *

><p>About fifteen minutes later Urahara told me to take a smoke break. I thanked him before heading through the storeroom that spilled out into the alleyway. I pulled my lighter free before I hit the door, lighting the cancer stick as I stepped out, noticing Jinta sitting on an abandoned milk crate, smoke streaming from his nostrils from a nearly spent cigarette.<p>

I sighed as I approached him, leaning against the wall next to him as I took another drag, "You're too young for this shit."

"Hypocrite," Jinta breathed, flicking his spent cigarette away from him.

Yeah, the kid was right. I'd started smoking at fourteen, too.

"Karin wouldn't like it," I say offhandedly.

Jinta looked up at me, his eyes heated, "That's none of your goddamn business."

So this was the famous Jinta temper. I'd known him for a few years now, known he could be a brat, but most of the time, I thought he was pretty mature for his age. He put up a tough front to avoid being teased for his shyness at school, but his friendship with Karin seemed to be what kept him from getting out of control with his temper.

Most people didn't understand how he could be Urahara's kid. Urahara was so laid back and easy going, never seeming to get angry, whereas Jinta was a fire cracker who threw punches as quick as he spit hurtful words. I remembered over a year ago when Urahara had whined about Jinta being kicked out of another local middle school for fighting and had transferred into Karin's middle school. I knew what it was like to be picked on for an extreme hair color. A few scrapes here and there, but so far it looked like Jinta was keeping himself in control to stay there.

It made a lot of sense when you saw the two of them together. They'd known each other practically their entire lives, but hadn't really been friends. Now that Karin was trying to heal herself, she had begun clinging to Jinta as her only real friend, and now it looked like romantic feelings were beginning to stir up between them.

Which sucked, because hormones were raging at that age, and everything looks scary and confusing to a fourteen and a fifteen year old.

But still, if I was being honest with myself, I treated him like a kid brother. At first I had thought it was annoying, seeing as I didn't talk, but Jinta seemed to like me anyway, maybe because he was such a shy person at heart. Not to mention I felt like I was looking at myself when I looked at him, except Urahara was one of the best dads I'd ever seen. If I could pick a dad, I'd pick him. Sometimes it made me jealous how affectionate and easy Urahara seemed with Jinta, but I sensed Jinta suffered more than he let on.

Jinta had been little more than a toddler when his mother died.

Brain tumor.

Urahara had raised him on his own, guarding his heart by building a reputation as a play boy that didn't know how to stay off the fence, and never settling down.

Jinta: constantly moved around by dad and pushed around by peers. Add in the absurdly bright red hair color and I felt like we were blood brothers.

"Yeah, none of my business," I finally say, dropping my spent cigarette and grinding it into the asphalt with my shoe.

I feel the compulsion, so I say it. I can't just rely on the relationship I have with Ichigo. If there's anything I've been learning from Ichigo, it's to let people I care about into my life, even if its just a little bit. I don't have any blood family left, but I do have a family.

"Between you and me, she digs you. Go for it, little man."

"I kissed her yesterday," Jinta says bluntly, surprising me, "on the soccer field after practice. She ran away from me. Now she shows up today, looking all cute and scared and shit? Man, I really wanna kick her ass for that."

I let the words sink. I can't help it. I laugh.

Jinta scowls at me for a second before he's chuckling too. It feels good. I usually only smile or laugh around Ichigo, but this, this is nice, too.

* * *

><p>Later that night, I'm sitting at the dinner table with Ichigo and his family.<p>

Apparently Karin had asked Jinta to come to dinner when she had been in the store earlier. Ichigo kept trying to talk to me with his eyes, but I ignored him. His protective-older-brother senses were probably tingling.

He could figure it out for himself. Maybe I was just too used to reading body language to expect everyone else to see what was so obvious between the young teenagers.

Jinta is next to Karin. He nearly drops a rice bowl when his fingers brush against hers as it's passed around the table.

"So nice of you boys to join us tonight," Masaki says, smiling at me before looking at Jinta, "You should really come around more often, Jinta. Karin's always talking about you and how talented you are at soccer."

Jinta says something polite while rubbing his neck and Karin looks like she might commit matricide.

I smile to myself. At least someone at the table isn't blind.

* * *

><p>Later, after dinner, I have my nose buried in a study book when I feel Ichigo's eyes on me.<p>

We're in his room lying on the floor, listening to some chill music. I feel relaxed.

I feel like this room was always mine.

When Ichigo looks at me with those eyes, I feel like he's always been mine, too.

"What?" I ask him quietly, heat pooling in my stomach.

"Nothing."

I try to focus on the equation I was working on, but its a lost effort, "You're a shitty liar. You're staring at me."

Ichigo's chuckle is butter soft, "Sorry. It's like you were born to be looked at."

There's something in his voice that's tender but teasing at the same time, "Yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

He inches closer to me. We're sitting on the floor shoulder to shoulder now, his breath against my ear as I try to make sense of the jumbled numbers on the paper in front of me.

He leans into my neck, his lips brushing against my pulse point. His lips are startlingly cold.

He spends a few minutes kissing and nipping along my neck, ear, and hairline.

I growl low in my throat, "Ichigo, the exam is tomorrow."

"I know."

"I need to work."

"I'm not stopping you," he whispers, continuing his current assault on his favorite part of my neck.

"If you give me a hickey, I won't let you touch me for a month."

He sighs and kisses my temple before retreating, "Love you too, baby."

He dozes on the bed while I try to finish the mock exam. I don't know how late it is when I finish, but he's snoring softly when I close the workbook and the house is silent.

Ichigo's parents see me so much they are never surprised to see me in the morning. Although neither of us had said anything 'official' to Ichigo's family, they weren't stupid. As I had suspected, Masaki had known how we felt about each other before we had been willing to admit it to even ourselves. She smiled a lot more lately according to Ichigo; Karin had nothing negative or positive to say about it, and Isshin seemed content enough. Spending the night had become a routine, although Isshin liked to wake us up in the morning, coming at Ichigo with crazy made-up karate moves that Ichigo easily blocks. Just when I thought Isshin couldn't get any weirder, he still manages to surprise me.

Personally, I think it's Isshin's way of insuring that we aren't engaging in anything X-rated while Karin is right across the hall.

_"It's pretty obvious by now what you two got going on," was all Isshin had said one morning while sipping on his coffee, Ichigo and I in the middle of finishing a quick breakfast, "Just behave yourselves while under my roof and we won't have any problems."_

After that, I hadn't been able to get the image of Ichigo and I having sex on Kurosaki's roof for days. The images had been crystal clear.

I turned the bedroom light off before crawling into bed beside Ichigo, the sheets cool to the touch.

In only a few minutes, Ichigo has managed to wrap himself almost completely around me, his hand resting against my stomach, his chin on my shoulder.

My heart beat quickens.

I want him even closer.

I want to make it all really real.

I want him to be completely mine.

I've decided.

I want to make love with Ichigo.

Soon.

* * *

><p><strong><em>"Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth."<em>**

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry to all you angst-lovers, but I needed a break, and I think the characters needed a break too. _


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry if this seems OOC, but I was running on a lot of personal feeling with Grimmjow. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

Chapter Eleven.

* * *

><p><strong>"So I'm gonna pick the world up <strong>

**and drop it on your fucking head."**

**– 'Drop The World' Eminem and Lil Wayne**

* * *

><p>I actually passed the college entrance exams. I applied to the closest public university and fought with Ichigo for hours.<p>

He wanted to go to the same college as me. I wouldn't let him dumb himself down for me. He was supposed to go to a big shot college like his old man had and do something with his life.

Me? I knew what I was right now. I was just dipping my feet in the water, feeling out the scene. If I didn't like it, I'd find something else. Maybe get a job at the museum or draw portraits in the park. Didn't sound so bad.

But I was scared that Ichigo wouldn't be challenged enough, content enough.

Then he'd want to leave me, and that would kill me.

He'd kissed me repeatedly, murmuring, "I only wanna be where you are. I'll study locally for now. If things change, we'll handle them together. Don't shut me out, baby."

And I'd instantly calmed. It hurts to love this much.

But before we finalized anything with school or living arrangements, I wanted to suck all the poison out of my past.

The front door is unlocked when I get there. The monster is home.

I pass him in the living room. He's passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of vodka not far from his fingertips.

I go into my room. The floor is still covered in ripped drawing pads and books and cds.

My life.

I go straight to the bureau and start chucking clothes into my gym duffel. Amazing how your life can be condensed to a single bag. I rut through the broken glass until I find the picture of me and my mom. I was five or six in this shot, both of us smiling so big and wide it made my heart ache. I tucked it into my back pocket before going to my mum's room. It took some searching, but I finally found a half-empty bottle of her lilac perfume. I didn't dare sniff it now: I'd crumble to pieces, but I tucked it between the bit of clothes in my bag to keep it from breaking.

"What are you doing, Grimm?"

My entire body froze, my breath caught in my throat.

"I'm disappointed, Grimm. Stealing is a crime, you know."

I wanted to tear his face off.

_He_ stole my mom. _He_ stole my innocence. _He_ stole my childhood.

He took my life. He took everything from me.

Until Starrk mentored me and taught me how to trust. Until Ichigo gave me my lungs and my heart.

I wasn't made of porcelain anymore. I wouldn't sit pretty in Aizen's glass case any longer.

I thought of Ichigo, of how much I've changed.

I thought about his freckles and kisses and strong arms.

"Fuck you, Aizen," I said.

He looked genuinely surprised, but he was smiling after, "Fuck me? Oh, Grimmjow, I don't know what you've been up to these days, but we both know who does the fucking around here."

My whole body was shaking, my mind nothing but flashes of red and white.

"Get out of my way."

He was in the bedroom doorway, blocking my exit.

He grinned, "Sure. If you can make me."

Instead of moving forward, I backed into the wall, still shaking.

I could barely breathe. No no no.

"Finally learned to bark, but you don't have any bite. I'll just have to re-train you until you can't do either."

He came towards me, grabbing my arms. The panic was everywhere. My lungs exploded. I pushed him hard, catching him off balance enough to bolt for the bedroom door, but he was already moving again, grabbing me by the waist. I thrashed with all my strength, breaking free enough to fall flat on my stomach, half his weight on top of me.

My arms grabbed out at anything, anything. My mom's bedside table turned over, empty pill bottles and a telephone falling.

"You're not going anywhere, Grimm. Mommy isn't here anymore."

I screamed as he started tugging at my jeans. My fingers curled around the phone. I slammed it into the side of his face as hard as I could, already moving before he let out a cry of surprise and pain.

"You little cunt!" he bellowed, "You're dead, do you understand me?"

"Over my dead body."

Both of us froze at the third voice. Starrk stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

The gun was pointed at Aizen.

"Grimmjow, get your things. We're leaving."

I got up shakily, feeling bile at the back of my throat. I grabbed my bag, throwing it over my shoulder, my face wet with sweat and silent tears.

Starrk approached Aizen, kicking him across the face so hard I heard his jaw crack.

Aizen made a gargled sound that satisfied my soul.

Starrk got on his haunches, his blue-grey eyes flat, "Don't you dare fucking move. I have friends in low places: they're going to keep an eye on you, Aizen. If you're not on the first bus out of Karakura by tomorrow, they'll kill you. Make it look like an accident. And if I EVER see your face again, if I even think you're looking for Grimmjow, I'll find you myself and you'll WISH my friends had found you sooner."

Aizen moaned, grabbing at his face with both of his hands. If he wasn't drunk, things could have gone a lot worse.

Starrk grabbed my hand and tugged me away from the scene. By the time we made it to the front stoop, my legs had given out.

"Yami," Starrk murmured, holding my weight as best he could on his shoulder, "help me out."

I was breathing hard. I think I was having a panic attack as a giant of a man came from the side of the house and helped me up and deposited me in the passenger seat of Starrk's civic.

He buckled me in and shut the door.

I rested my head against the glass of the window, listening to the low murmurs of Starrk and the Yami man standing on the curb. He looked like he had just gotten out of prison, covered in gang tattoos and a body built like a bull.

I watched Starrk pass Yami a thick wad of bills before bumping knuckles with him and getting in the car. I didn't see a gun.

When we got back to his apartment, I took a shower.

A really long one, the longest in the history of the world.

The water was ice cold when the door creaked open. Starrk plopped down on top of the toilet, staring at the wall in front of him.

"My ex has ties with The Hollows: he's been having his grunts alternate watching the house. If Aizen was ever in the house when you were, they were to call me immediately."

I rested my forehead against the shower wall, the water sloshing down my spine.

"This is your apartment as much as it's mine. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, Grimmjow."

"Your ex is a gangbanger and you're still alive?" I husk, trying to avoid reality.

"We were more of a fling," he said with a small smile, "He has a thing for hippie pretty boys with wolf tattoos."

"Who doesn't?"

"Are you hitting on me right now? Urahara's in the other room."

"He's probably squirming with jealousy right now."

"Probably," Starrk said with a small smile.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist before sitting on the floor near the toilet.

Starrk had always been in my life, always been there. I didn't deserve a rock like him. And Ichigo…god, I didn't deserve him any more than Aizen deserved to live.

"So it's over," Starrk said, "all that's left is the scars."

Starrk was right. It was over.

I imagined Aizen boarding a bus. I imagined that bus never coming back.

I wish he was dead, but life isn't fair. Monsters don't always die, and most times, the survivors have to live with that knowledge. And it sucks. The world keeps turning.

My entire body was covered in goose bumps.

My scars were invisible, like my demons.

Ichigo's scars were visible, but…he wasn't conscious of them much these days.

"My scars…will they go away?"

Starrk leaned forward and ruffled my wet hair like I was a little kid brother, "No, not entirely. Scars never really go away, but they fade, right?"

Starrk has never lied to me, so I believe him.

* * *

><p>Ichigo comes over to the apartment when I call him a few hours later. It's almost midnight but Starrk and Urahara are at Urahara's place and I want to take advantage of the alone time.<p>

We're sitting on the couch when I tell Ichigo what happened earlier today.

It hurts to watch the expressions that flit across his face. Like a physical wound.

My voice cracks when I tell him about the first time Aizen ever touched me.

He gets all pale and clammy, then his breathing changes, his hands clenching into fists before he grabs at his hair and leans forward, like he's practicing breathing techniques.

I don't touch him. I'm waiting for him to explode.

Instead, he puts his head in my lap and starts sobbing.

I run my fingers through his orange locks. He's beautiful.

He's crumbling me into a million pieces and building me back up again.

"God…god I'm so stupid," he finally murmurs, much calmer, his tears soaking through my sweat pants, "I thought…I thought you were scared of me…I'm so stupid…"

We laid like that for a long time in the dark until he fell asleep, my hands in his hair, his arms around my waist.

* * *

><p><strong><em>"...this pain you'll never know..."<em>**

* * *

><p><em>Sorry it's so short. I promised an update, and this actually took a lot of my energy, so I'm going to go work on something special me and my favorite writer have planned. -TPP<em>


	12. PROMO!

**DO NOT REPLY TO THIS MESSAGE! JUST GO COMMENT ON THE NEW STORY! ...PLEASE :)**

**The Bad News:** This is not a story update.

**The Good News:** I'm shamelessly promoting me and Racey's new joint account, **bakafriendsforever.**

**More Good News:** The page will feature our brain baby, a joint-fun-for-all GrimmIchi fic featuring a House, M.D. twist. We're calling it **Doctor Dick.**

It's all about **doctors, lab coats, smut, sex, drugs**, maybe even some **rock 'n' roll**. Actually, there will definitely be rock 'n' roll. And lots of sex. Lots of it.

Did I mention Dr. Kurosaki has an oral fixation? Or that Dr. Grimmjow House has mad swag with his bitchin' cane?

If you like me or Racey's stories, this is your chance to have your deepest desires/dreams come true.

Come on. I know you've thought about it: what would it be like for two notorious GrimmIchi pervert writers to team up and hold nothing back?

Hope you guys check it out. We're excited, we've been collaborating, and we can't wait to unleash the cracktasticness that is sure to be the Bleach universe clashing with the House universe.

It'll be focusing on GrimmIchi, but we're throwing around other couples as well. When it comes to me and Racey, we brainstorm the beJesus out of each other.

So yeah, you're welcome ;)

**CHECK IT OUT!**

p.s: My exams are over in two weeks, and I swear to the yaoi gods that I will be updating and finishing my personal stories the second the semester winds down. School, work, and the joint fic is sucking up my time, but I WILL get back to my original babies, and I have other babies I've been working on too, so it should be awesome! And** CHECK OUT RACEY'S NEW STUFF! I just got hooked on her newest 'The Cleaners'. Fucking brilliant!**


	13. Chapter 12

_I almost used "Between You and I" by Every Avenue. "It's Not Over" by Secondhand Serenade. Or "A Drop in the Ocean" by Ron Pope._

_I really struggled to capture this chapter. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

Chapter 12.

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Tidal waves they rip right through me<strong>_

_**Tears from eyes worn cold and sad**_

_**Pick me up now, I need you so bad."**_

_**- "Down" by Blink 182**_

* * *

><p>When I wake up, I smell bacon.<p>

My neck is killing me. I'm lying crooked on Starrk's couch, somehow shifting during the night. I furrow my brow when I remember why I'm lying here.

I had told Ichigo everything last night.

Everything.

My chest should be tight, but it isn't.

I exhale. Then inhale the smell of bacon again and sit up. I look over towards the kitchenette, Ichigo's back to me as he works at the stove.

I stand up and stretch my arms over my head, waiting for the panic to settle in.

None.

Huh.

I pad to the kitchenette, Ichigo oblivious to me.

It's nice. This feeling.

My eyes start at his ankles and work their way up. He's wearing mesh basketball shorts and an old green t-shirt. And his hair. Christ, I'll never get over it.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm crossing the short distance between us and hugging him firmly from behind.

He stiffens and lets out a surprised gasp before relaxing and chuckling, "Jesus, Grimmjow. Not a good idea to give the chef a heart attack."

I love his voice.

"Smells good," I mumble, still feeling dead to the world. I'm not a good morning person.

Ichigo teases the sizzling bacon with a spatula before turning off the stove and turning to face me.

His brows pull together, which confuse me.

"Come on, let's sit down," he says, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. He moves around me with the skillet and spatula, distributing the few strips of bacon and runny eggs onto two small plates.

"I couldn't find tea packets, so I made coffee," Ichigo said, pouring me a mug and sitting across from me at the small table.

It's weird. He's only been in this kitchen a few times yet I feel like the stranger.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, my stomach turning over and over and over.

"Ichigo."

"Yeah?"

"Do you…are you…." I can't finish the thought.

I don't want to. I don't want to know what he thinks about my past.

He's staring at me, patient. So patient. Fuck.

"I get it," I finally say, locking up my heart, ready, "I get it if you don't want me anymore."

He flinches, then is completely still.

Just staring at me, staring at me like I shot him.

Then he's clamping his jaw and dropping his head and looking away from me.

I'm trying to breathe steadily through my nose. In and out, in and out.

He runs a hand over his face, through his hair.

He finally looks at me, amber eyes on fire, "Don't say stuff like that. Not ever. Okay?"

I sip my coffee just for something to do, avoiding his eyes.

"Grimmjow."

I look at him.

Does he even realize how gorgeous he is? How fierce?

_Why do you want me? Why? I'm dirty. _

"I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want something different, unless you want someone else –"

"Never."

Silence again. More staring.

He rubs at his arm, looking at his plate as he says, "I just don't want you to hate me. If…if I touch you, I want it – I want it to mean something. I never…I NEVER want you to get hurt because of me."

I can't move. Can't do anything. I don't even know how I'm breathing.

His eyes finally meet mine, "It would kill me, Grimmjow. Just fucking kill me."

We're not thinking about our breakfasts anymore.

We've never been this open. This naked. It's scary.

So I tell him, "Before you, I didn't care if I lived or died."

He looks like he's not breathing either. He bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes for a second.

"How anyone could ever, _ever_ touch you – hurt you…it's unforgivable. I won't accept it."

My brain hurls me into a pit.

Where would I be right now if he hadn't talked to me in Benehime's that day? What if he hadn't smoked with me on the school roof? What if I hadn't gripped his hand tight the first time his palm brushed mine?

What if he had pushed me into sex? What if his kisses had been too demanding, too fast?

_What if he had never been damaged? Never been broken? _

If his sister had never died…if he hadn't been swimming in pain and unforgiveness…would we have ever even had a chance?

This thought outrages me. Strangles me.

I'm suffocating and I realize my glass plate is on the floor, shattered.

I'm standing, not knowing how I got up, not knowing…

_He needs more than me. _

"You don't need me," I say, backing out of the room before I have a panic attack.

I won't. _I won't I won't I won't._

"Grimmjow!"

I'm out the front door and around the block.

Running? Running.

Running where? I don't know. I don't know I don't know I don't know.

I'm barefoot. I'm shaking.

I finally stop. I stop and I can't breathe so I collapse on a bench and try to catch my breath. People on the sidewalk are staring at me like I'm possessed.

They're probably right.

How stupid. How stupid I had been to tell him everything.

I get up from the bench and throw up in the street.

I keep moving. I don't know what else to do but move, move, move.

Someone's saying my name. Calling me.

"You're scaring me, man! What's going on?"

I try to focus, but I'm not really seeing anything.

"Sit down. Just sit down and breathe," Ginta instructs, pushing me towards a crate.

I'm in the alleyway behind Benehime's. Ginta smells like cigarettes.

He's on his haunches in front of me, trying to look into my face without touching me.

He's a smart kid. Always has been.

"Cigarette," I beg.

He pulls one out of his pocket with a lighter and hands them to me.

By the time I finish the cigarette, I'm staring at his worried, shiny eyes.

"You're scaring the shit out of me, bro," he grumbles, taking a long chug from his water bottle before holding it out to me.

I flick the butt away from me and chug the water like a dying man.

"Got any more?"

"Dad just re-stocked the fridge," he says before disappearing and returning with two more water bottles.

He just watches me as I down one and twist the second one around and around in my hands.

"What're you doing here?" he finally asks.

"I don't know."

"What happened?"

I shake my head, "I don't fucking know, okay? Just leave me out here."

He scowls but eventually disappears through the back entrance.

* * *

><p>Shit. Shit shit <em>shit<em>.

I should have moved faster. I should have gotten up faster, but I didn't. I'd sat too long, stunned.

Complete and utter panic had taken over Grimmjow, just…

_I pushed him. Something I said...I pushed him. _

By the time I had enough sense to get up from the table and chase him, I couldn't find him. I jogged for a few blocks in every direction.

My shirt is completely soaked in sweat by the time I realize where he must have gone.

I berated myself for being such an idiot and took off in the direction of _Benehime's_ as fast as my legs could carry me.

Then I'm inside the store, probably psyching out some of the customers. The Shuhei kid raises his eyebrows from the register area and asks me if I need something, that I look crazy.

"I feel crazy," I say before I spot the short redhead who's trying to get with my sister.

"Ginta," I say. I must sound super desperate because he nods his head towards the back of the store.

"He's outback."

I don't even thank him before I'm tearing through the back storeroom and out the back door and spilling out into the alleyway.

Funny how I could be so out of breath but the second I see him, I'm calm.

He's sitting on the overturned crates the crew uses as chairs for their breaks, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded and head bowed like he's praying.

"Grimmjow."

He looks up, registers me, than puts his head back down, balancing his head on his clasped fists.

I sit on the ground in front of him, refusing to move until he looks at me.

It takes forever. I'm breathing easily again by the time he finally sets his sky eyes on mine.

It's all pain and anger and I don't know if it's directed at me or not.

I'm frustrated. Totally and utterly helpless, so I say, "Don't be an idiot, Grimmjow. I need you. I fucking need you more than anything or anybody on this fucking planet."

His arms are still resting on his knees, but he's lifted his head now, looking defensive, looking like he just might kick my ass. He could, too. I'd let him.

"Yeah? You think so?" he says. I don't like the tone at all.

I frown, "I know so. Believe me."

"You can't know that," he seethes, his voice low but building and building, "You can't know how much you're going to want me in a month, a year, a decade from now. You _cant _know what I went through, how I fucking felt, how I fucking died every time he _touched_ me-"

"He'll never touch you again," I swear, voice heated. I try to touch his hands but he pushes my hands away.

"You're going to _think_ about him _every time_ you touch me! Every time we kiss, _he's_ in the back of my brain and I have to _fight _him off and remind myself how much I fucking love you. You'll get tired, so fucking tired of my bullshit…"

"Grimmjow…"

"My body's fucked up. _I'm_ fucked up –"

"Is that what you think this is about?" I say, trying to keep my voice calm. I feel like lava is exploding in my veins, "You think I'm in this for _sex_?"

He stops, just staring at me while I try not to punch the brick wall.

And then I don't care anymore. I don't care about his fucking boundaries.

I grab his wrist and slap it against my forearm, forcing him to feel the various scars before moving his palm under the bottom hem of my shirt to travel up my stomach, over my chest.

"You honestly think for even a fucking _second_ this is about _sex_? That you haven't soaked into every single scar on my body? That you haven't _healed_ me? That you haven't made me _better_? I was a fucking ghost before you, Grimmjow, and I'll be _damned_ before you think I wouldn't fight to my last breath to keep you for myself."

I let his hand go and try to compose myself. I didn't want this. The last thing I wanted was for him to fear me. I'm doing a shit job.

"I'm sorry I grabbed you. I didn't mean it. I'm just…fuck, Grimmjow, you mean everything to me. I'm sorry about what happened to you, I'm angry about your past, but I don't care, Grimmjow. _I don't care_. I'd want you no matter what. That's it. Period."

For a second, his eyes are so clear and blue I've never felt my heart stutter so hard.

And in the next second, he's sobbing.

* * *

><p><em>Damn him.<em>

It fucking _hurts_. It hurts and I've never cried like this in my life.

I'm mortified. Totally ashamed.

I rub at my eyes, managing to hold in my voice and just breathing really heavily.

Ichigo kisses my forehead and pulls me into a hug and I don't pull away and I don't want anything in the world more than I want him.

And it's the scariest fucking feeling on the face of the planet.

My mom's cross is digging into my chest he's pressing against me so hard, but I don't care.

The only two people I've ever loved, right here.

I could die right now and have no regrets.

He whispers to me, soothes my soul, and it's all I can do not to liquefy and disappear.

He pulls back and kisses me softly on the lips, barely a peck before pulling away and just sitting next to me, holding my hand.

The sun is high overhead before we move another muscle.

My stomach rumbles. It has to be past noon.

"I'm sorry," I say, leaning into him to kiss his cheek.

He sighs, squeezing my hand tight.

"Come on. Let's get some food in you."

I'm too exhausted to argue.

We grab takeout and head back to his house. We fall asleep on his bed, my head on his stomach. He doesn't complain.

When I wake up, his hand is stroking through my hair.

"Come on," he whispers, "There's someone I want you to meet."

I'm confused, but put on a pair of his shoes and follow him anyway.

He asks his mom for the car keys.

She smiles softly and hands them over, telling me to come back for dinner.

I tell her I will.

We leave. The drive doesn't last long, but the windows are rolled down and the wind feels amazing on my face, the radio on low.

My gut drops as Ichigo parks at the Karakura City Cemetery.

He turns the car off and stares out the windshield.

He takes a deep breath and gets out of the car.

I follow.

We head through one of the main gates and onto one of the pebbled walkways that winds through the different grave plots. We pass moseleums and statues and flowers.

I know we're getting close because Ichigo grabs my hand and it's shaking.

We stop in front of a very simple grave marker, a small white plaque with a simple inscription in kanji:

_KUROSAKI YUZU_

_1998-2010_

_Beloved Daughter & Sister_

"This…this is the first time I've been to her grave," he whispers, his fingers a vice, "I didn't…I've never fucking visited. I was – I couldn't."

I lean into Ichigo and just try to be his anchor as he shakes and shakes.

Ten, fifteen minutes pass in silence.

The wind makes the trees so loud here.

"Hello, Yuzu," I rasp, not letting go of Ichigo's hand, "I'm honored to meet you. You have…the most amazing mom and dad I've ever seen. I'm jealous, you know? And your brother…you have no idea how much he means to me."

Ichigo is shaking so hard he's jerking my arm but he says nothing.

"You can rest now. I'll watch him from now on."

I finally have the courage to look at Ichigo. Tears are streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry, Yuzu. I'm so, so sorry," he whispers.

"Do you want a minute alone?" I murmur, making my hand limp.

He shakes his head from side to side.

"Don't leave."

My fingers are beginning to tingle from loss of blood. My heart feels like it's going to bust.

"I won't."


	14. Quick Announcement

Quick Announcement

Hey guys sorry I've dropped off the face of the planet (or so it seems). I'm not even going to bullshit you, I've been working and trying to figure out how to tackle fall since I'm graduating and have to do something with my life now, but I PROMISE I'm not giving up my fan fiction writing. All stories WILL be finished in their own time, so no worries on that battlefront.

Any who, I know you're pissed that this isn't an actual update, but I wanted to get the word out because I forgot to and now it's only in a few weeks, so I wanted to give you guys a head's up in case any of you are in the area.

I'll be hosting a MATURE fanfiction panel called "Perverts Anonymous" at Mizu Con in Miami, Florida. The con is August 17-19, and the panel will be that Saturday night, the 18th. Not sure what time yet, but I'll be at the con, so if any of you guys are near me, please come say hi. I can't wait for the panel: it'll be a really good time. I'll be hosting other panels that weekend too. I know this is the internet and people are spread all over the place, even other countries, but just wanted to share. Check out the official Mizu Con website for more details about who's attending and what's going on: it was my favorite con last year, so I know it's going to be fun.

Thanks guys and I'll be updating soon! I'm going to try my hardest to get as much material out as possible before the fall semester starts as I'll be substitute teaching brats in middle school and high school on top of weaseling my way into grad school, so hold tight! I won't forget about my stories: I know they seem to take forever, but leaving reviews like "update soon" and "you haven't updated in forever are you ever going to finish" only pressures me and makes me go do other things besides write. I'm also working on original short fiction for publication, so please avoid making me grumpy.

Thanks for sticking with me so far. -TPP


	15. Chapter 13

_Not sure if this chapter cheapens the story, but here it is. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

**Chapter 13.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>"And I don't want the world to see me,<strong>_

_**cuz I don't think that they'd understand**_

_**When everything's meant to be broken,**_

_**I just want you to know who I am."**_

_**-Sleeping With Sirens cover of 'Iris' by GooGoo Dolls**_

* * *

><p>Yuzu's gravesite drained Ichigo. It should've drained me too, but I couldn't stop fidgeting the whole drive back to his house.<p>

Like a shot of adrenaline to the soul. That's what Ichigo was to me.

We help his mom make dinner. She smiles and jokes with us. She makes me laugh.

I don't even tense up when I see her come in for a side hug.

The smile Ichigo gives me…

I don't feel broken anymore.

His eyes tell me he knows.

We eat. Isshin tells us about an ER patient that tried to grope him. Ichigo laughs so hard I start patting his back as he chokes, his face red, open, brilliant.

The dishes soon clear and we head up to Ichigo's room. We distract ourselves with a rerun of our favorite game show but I'm more interested in the tiny mole behind Ichigo's right ear.

I lean over and lick it.

Ichigo shudders, turning his head to look at me, "What was that?"

"Mole. It's cute."

"Weird," he says, kissing me on the mouth. He keeps pecking, little birdlike pecks that make blood rush to my head.

He grunts when my hands start tugging at his hair. I'm becoming aggressive.

It's exciting.

He straddles my hips.

_Oh._

We break for air, his teeth latch onto my neck, making my hips buck up. Ichigo grinds back against me. We're both hard.

I push at his shirt. It goes over his head easily. His eyes are huge.

"Okay?" I breathe, my hands stroking his hips. He looks a little confused, or excited, or both.

"More than okay."

"Okay."

He kisses me and tugs at my shirt. I lift my arms. I want to kiss him again but Ichigo gets distracted by my collarbones, another fetish of his.

I let him kiss and nip, my hands content to trace patterns on his stomach and sides. He groans when he reaches my bellybutton and tugs at the zipper of my jeans.

My hand shoots out, hovers over his. I close my eyes.

"It's okay," he murmurs into my temple, his kisses light along the ridge of my ear, "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Something heavy settles in my chest.

"I want to," I say stubbornly. I sound like a kid who isn't getting what he wants at a toy store. I'm frustrated and hard and Ichigo is being patient, which only makes it worse.

Because we want each other.

Because Aizen is whispering something sick in the back of my head.

Because I want to be close, close, close to the boy I fucking love.

He saved me. I owe him everything.

"Gimme a minute," I reason, breathing in through my nose as I work the button on my jeans. Ichigo digs his knees into either side of my hips, putting all his weight into his knees to lift himself up off of my groin.

His face is red, embarrassed, as he balances himself to move off of me, but I stop him with a hand to his thigh.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting off of you," he mumbles, red specks appearing across the top of his chest. They pop up when he's extremely embarrassed, his face redder than a tomato. It's endearing.

So I'm honest and say, "I don't want you to."

The spots prickle farther down almost to his bellybutton.

He settles his weight back down, making my thighs tense at the return of friction and heat.

"Grimmjow?"

"Hm."

"Why did you cut your hair?"

I wasn't expecting the random question. I let him run one of his hands through my hair. It's actually grown out, nearly trailing my shoulders, but I know what he means.

I always had it long. For years and years.

Aizen flashes in the back of my mind, the feel of his big calloused fingers, and I have to concentrate on breathing and touching Ichigo's chest to ground me back in the moment.

Aizen would tug, would rip.

Ichigo is different. Ichigo is careful.

"Because that sick fuck loved it."

Ichigo takes his fingers away from my scalp immediately, but I touch his hands and grip his fingers, my fingers locking between his so that he can't get away.

"This is different. You love me."

The words take a moment to break through his panic, but I see his breathing return to normal, and he's staring hard at me, his eyes a dark galaxy of caramel.

"I love every part of you," he says, leaning down and brushing his lips over the bridge of my nose, a cheekbone, my ear.

Our palms are sweating. I feel his heat, his words, and I know what I want.

I want him. Always.

I lean up and kiss him, breaking our hand lock to hold his face, to hold him close.

Ichigo moans into my mouth when I lick over his tongue, our pace careful.

I let a hand wander over his shoulder, down his arm, across the old scars, his ribs, dipping past his bellybutton.

He shudders in my lap and I want to hear more, I want everything he wants, and I don't care how I get it.

Because it's stupid and cliché and I don't fucking care because he's fire. He's cinnamon and sunshine and steel and love and everything I could never have.

And he's here. With me.

_He only wants me._

I slip one of my hands underneath his mesh shorts, his breath catching as I wrap my hand around him, squeezing softly once, twice.

And I whisper into his neck that I need him, that I want him more than anything.

He bucks against my hand, pushing me back against the bed.

His hand shakes as it takes down my zipper, as he tugs at my boxers and grips me back.

I hiss and roll my hips, letting us roll together, both our heats touching, touching, touching.

Ichigo grunts and bites my bottom lip. I close my eyes, thrust against him, my hand slick as I keep us together.

"Grimm…"

"Yeah."

"Grimmjow…"

"Ichi?"

"We're okay."

"Mmhm."

He drags his nails down my forearms and bites into my neck again.

I don't know if he knows how much it turns me on. I want him to mark me. He's mine.

His hand replaces mine, taking control of us. Both of us can't stop our hips. Not for anything.

The heat coils. I lick the sweat from around Ichigo's left nipple before taking it into my mouth.

He can't help himself. He cries out, his body going rigid as he comes.

He pulls his face into my neck, bucking helplessly a few more times before I feel his cum all over my crotch.

His smell, his sweat, his breath and then his tongue massaging at the teeth marks he's left in my neck and shoulder.

I explode.

I groan and dig my fingers into his ass. He yelps, which makes both of us startle into quiet laughter.

"Ow," he says, rubbing at one of his now red-streaked butt cheeks.

"Sorry."

His smile eats my world.

* * *

><p>I lean over the edge of my bed and grab a t-shirt off the floor to wipe us down. I should be worried about my mom doing the laundry, but a part of me thinks we're not fooling her for even a minute.<p>

She might even already be planning the wedding. It's my dad we have to worry about, but Karin isn't even home tonight, having taken off for Jinta's house the second her plate was cleared.

I have the sudden thought that they might be doing the same thing and it makes me a little ill so I pull up my pants and pounce on Grimmjow's chest, resting my head there.

He grunts as my weight hits him, his jeans already having been buckled back up. Shame.

"So," I start, staring up at the ceiling, content to use my boyfriend's ribs as a pillow, "That was amazing."

"Mm."

I get bored of my position and decide staring at him would be better. I crawl along his body until we're lying beside each other, facing each other.

"You have a dumb smile on your face," he says, his voice deeper than usual, scratchier.

"It was a good orgasm."

He leans in and kisses me. I'm more than eager to reciprocate.

All of this should be terrifying, but I'm giddy. It's kind of pathetic. If I could see myself right now, I'd probably want to hit myself.

I'm that guy I thought I'd never be: all cuddly and smiley and stupid and Grimmjow doesn't seem to mind.

The scratches on my ass throb a little, but it doesn't really hurt.

"What?"

I wrap an arm over his stomach and dig my head into his shoulder, hiding another stupid grin, "Nothing."

* * *

><p><strong>3 Months Later.<strong>

"Ichigo-kun, those belong in the front window display."

"Oh, my bad. I'll move them," Ichigo says, picking up the promotional board cutouts for the release of a new K-Pop cd.

He's only been here a week, just another way to earn some extra cash now that we're in university. I still think he's a stubborn fool, but he wouldn't back down from going to the local public university I got into.

He said he'd transfer next semester, but I don't believe him.

He asked me to move in with him, but I don't want to put that kind of pressure on Isshin, but neither of us can afford to live on campus right now, so we commute between school, Ichigo's house, and Starrk's apartment to spend time together.

And now work, too.

It's amazing how we haven't killed each other yet, but Urahara and Starrk are going through a bit of a rough patch, so we continue to spend most of our time at Ichigo's house despite Stark's protests that the apartment is almost always empty anyway.

I know Stark hasn't been sleeping well. I don't know what they're fighting about, but it's really unlike Stark to hold a grudge and to go more than a few hours without a nap.

It's even weirder seeing abrasive behavior coming from Urahara.

"You didn't have to snap at him," I say, sorting through another rack of CDs labeled _J._

Urahara eyes me, the grey under his eyes almost as dark as the eyes themselves.

So neither of them are sleeping.

"I didn't snap at him; I just told him what to do. There's a difference."

I watch Urahara walk over to the cash register area to help a customer, his smile as fake as his attitude is real.

The door tinkles as Jinta walks in, messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Grimm," he says, eyeballing his dad at the register before stopping next to me and giving me a flat look, "Is he still acting grumpy?"

I just nod, not sure about the whole situation, but the length of this 'fight' is beginning to rub off on me. It's been at least a week, but they haven't broken up. Starrk and Urahara are great together: Ichigo says it all the time, like they're our teenage children or something instead of the other way around.

Jinta rolls his eyes, "I told dad to go over last night and apologize, but he's being a jack ass. I dunno what's goin' on, but he's driving me fucking crazy."

"How?"

"He tried to cook dinner, for one. Almost killed me. And now he wants to hang out with me all the time because he's a loser with no friends, but I'm like, dude, I have a girlfriend now, and I can't be kissing up on my girl when he's hovering over me or moping."

I smirk and immediately feel guilty. I really hope for his sake that he hasn't slept with Karin yet. Ichigo would smite him out of existence, Jinta's little brother bond with me be damned.

"They'll figure it out. They love each other," I say.

Jinta runs a hand through his hair and sighs, "Yeah, I know."

The conversation is sufficient, so he disappears to the back to change into his work shirt. I go back to sorting the cds. We had a massive sale the day before, so a lot of them are not where they're supposed to be.

Ichigo helps me finish the last two racks before we clock out for the day, both of us tired and ready for showers.

Fuck studying. I loved my art appreciation class, but college algebra was destroying me. Ichigo was always eager to help me, but that just gets me more frustrated.

He's just so good at everything. The ass hole never struggles in anything academic.

We get to Ichigo's house in time to sit down for dinner, Karin texting under the table. Her face is red. I wonder what Jinta is saying.

We help clean up then head upstairs for showers. Separately.

Me and Ichigo are a lot more touchy feely around the family now, but I still want to respect Isshin's boundaries. I don't know if he knows that we've already had penetrative sex twice under his roof, but I would like to keep him in denial until we've graduated or at least until we're able to afford the dorms.

I take a shower first and finish up some math problems as I wait for Ichigo to get out from his shower. I probably get one out of three right but at least I'm doing the damn work.

I forget about it all together when Ichigo comes in clad in baby blue pajama pants, a towel over his head.

He stands behind the desk for a minute, but I refuse to look up. If I look away from the equation for even a second, I know I won't finish my work.

He leans into my back, shuts my math book and kisses my shoulder, "Later."

"Okay."

I follow him to bed.

It doesn't take long for us both to get hard. Ichigo's hair is still wet. I tug on it as his hands cup my ass.

"Grimm?"

"Hm."

He mumbles something into my neck. I can't hear him.

"Ichi?"

He cups my ass again, "This. I wanna…try this."

Huh?

"You want me…?"

"If you're okay with it. I've been waiting to ask, but I didn't know if you would."

I breathe, surprised that we're having this conversation. We've been slowly building up our sex life, so slowly I started to get scared Ichigo would get tired of me, cheat on me, something, but we got there.

It took months but I'd finally let him inside me. He'd been so careful and there'd been so much preparation I'd only had one fleeting thought of Aizen standing in my bedroom all those years ago.

I'd cried, but Ichigo had cried too.

The crying hadn't lasted long, though. It'd been too good, too real.

And Ichigo had overwhelmed me in his dominance, so I thought maybe I wouldn't reciprocate.

But now he's asking.

It doesn't make me feel sick or like hiding. I just feel his skin, his honesty.

So I'm honest too because I have to be, because I promised him I would always be honest with my reactions and feelings.

He rubs my chest, right over my heart, a soothing tickle that reminds me I'm in my private headspace.

"I don't know."

"Okay."

I hate myself.

"Just…I want to, I do, Ichigo, but just…not tonight."

"Okay, baby."

I love it when he calls me baby.

I kiss him. He kisses back, his fingers massaging gently at my ass.

I roll onto my back. He slips between my legs.

Maybe it's boring for most people, but it works for us.

I have to see him. I have to see his face or I get numb.

He slicks his fingers with lube quickly. I thought I'd killed the mood, maybe upset him, but Ichigo never gets upset with me in bed. It makes my heart hurt how much I love him, how much he's willing to trust me.

I watch him roll a condom on. He does it for me.

Aizen never used a condom.

I block him from my brain as Ichigo leans forward and kisses me, distracts me.

I stretch. It aches, but I don't let him stop.

It takes a while because I can't make myself relax, but when he's fully inside, we both breathe easier.

The burn is torture until he finds it, until my head is turned and I'm biting into his arm to stop my voice.

Ichigo is punishing my prostate, his breathing ragged against my ear, his sweat coasting down my belly, making me harder.

He asks me if I'll touch myself.

I slide my hand between our stomachs, grip myself, and cum.

I'm too loud.

He puts his hand over my mouth, his hips actually stopping as we tense, listening.

We usually lock the door, but still.

I push my hips up into him, remembering he hasn't cum yet.

He moans against my temple and starts jerking his hips, his hands grabbing at my thighs.

I watch him, my hands in his hair until he comes.

He pulls out of me, tosses the condom in his trash. Kisses me.

I wrap up around him. We're both gross, but something about Ichigo's sweat makes me possessive.

"We should take another shower," he mumbles into my knuckles.

"That would be suspicious."

He turns in my arms and kisses me.

"Ichi."

"Mm?"

"I love you."

"More than anything."


	16. Chapter 14

_Thank you to everyone who encouraged me through this story, it has really meant a lot to me. Really something that challenged me and made me grow as a writer; close to my heart. FF is being weird and I'm not sure if my replies have been going through, but please know I appreciate all the support, not only for this story, but for all the others. This story quite literally wrote itself and this felt like the end, so please take it for what it is and enjoy. This can now be marked complete. Thank you for being a part of it. -TPP_

* * *

><p><strong>Perfect Silence<strong>

Chapter 14.

_"You heard my voice_

_I came out of the woods by choice_

_Shelter also gave their shade_

_But in the dark I had no name_

_So leave that click in my head_

_and I will remember the words that you said..._

_...So when your hope's on fire_

_But you know your desire_

_Don't hold a glass over the flame_

_Don't let your heart grow cold_

_I will call you by name_

_I will share your road."_

_-Hopeless Wanderer by Mumford & Sons_

* * *

><p>Ichigo grips my hand tight. Our palms are sweaty from moving boxes all day, but we don't care. We're standing in the middle of Starrk's living room, our living room now.<p>

Kisuke had finally swallowed his pride, had finally confessed his true feelings for Starrk.

Of course Starrk had reciprocated. He'd been in love with Kisuke for years. Kisuke had stopped running, had finally given in. Starrk had moved in with him immediately and the two were in that sweet-sick honeymoon phase where even Jinta didn't want to be around them.

Ichigo and I had continued to save through the summer, fall, winter, and the new spring semester was nearly over. I'd managed to survive a year of college classes, most of them drawing and design. Ichigo was excelling, taking on a paid internship with the science department, so we could handle the rent as long as we didn't get big heads and spend stupid money where it wasn't needed.

It was weird. I'd always considered Starrk's apartment my home, but now that Ichigo was here, now that it was ours…it felt complete.

I gripped Ichigo's hand tighter as I stared at the two photos on the wall, the ones Misaki had gotten framed for us as presents to our new space.

The picture of my mum and me, the only one I had, in a quiet, silver frame.

Her cross still hung around my neck beneath my shirt. I never took it off.

And a picture of Yuzu, Karin, and Ichigo, all of them smiling on the beach, a picture that had made Ichigo cry when he'd unwrapped it in a solid black frame.

He'd said that was the last time they'd been happy before the accident, a family day out weeks before her death. Yuzu had buried Ichigo half in the sand and Karin had gotten stung by a jellyfish, but it had been a good day. A normal, simple day.

He'd gotten her name tattooed on his left arm, beneath the crook of his elbow.

When I'd asked him why that area, he'd told me it had been one of his favorite areas to cut.

Moved and a little emotional, I'd asked Ichigo to visit the beach with me the next day.

He'd been a little confused when we'd gotten there and I'd stood on the pier, staring out at the waves and fighting tears.

I told him that this was my mum's grave, her freedom. We sat on the pier for hours. Ichigo bought me ice cream.

Then we went straight to a tattoo shop. I had re-drawn the bird, visualizing the last thing I had drawn for my mum before she died.

The final creation of mine that she had loved, that had made her smile. Her final smile.

Right above my heart. Forever. A shitty bird, but HER bird.

And then we just kept living.

School, work, arguing, instant ramen noodles, movies on the couch, touching each other in the dark because we needed the contact, not the sex.

We're laying on the floor of the living room in a nest of pillows, halfway through a movie when Ichigo kisses me, touches me. Then it progresses, and our pants are off.

I'm on top of him. He splays his legs out and I breathe into his mouth.

And he says, "I need you. Please."

And I can't deny him. I don't know how I thought I ever could.

He whispers to me as I work him open, my heart in my throat because I've never done this before. I've played, but not like this.

His legs are shaking. I want to talk him out of it, but I know he won't listen.

I'm terrified but aroused. Ichigo's always made me feel like that, the constant contradiction.

And then I'm pushing in, holding my breath because the fear is outweighing the tightness and the heat until I thrust forward, my instincts driven by the sounds he's making.

The monster is disappearing back underneath the bed.

Ichigo's arms wrap around me, his hips working against mine and we're trapped against each other and it's amazing. More than amazing.

I drag it out as long as I can. It's fucking stupid, but I want him to remember this first time for the rest of his life. I don't want to rush. I want him to feel everything.

So we're making love.

I dunno. It's intense and fucking scary, and when he's inside me, this is what it feels like, but my heart is pounding so hard and blood is rushing in my ears and my hips snap harder, my fingers dig harder.

I want him to smell like me. I want him to feel me for days because he's mine and nobody will ever hear him like this or see him like this. Over my fucking dead body.

I bite his neck. He screams and cums.

I can't stop. I want to fuck him into the floor. I want to own every part of him, memorize every freckle and ancient cut mark, name them all.

He tugs my face to him, kisses me deep.

"Cum, baby. Cum for me, love."

I explode. I grip him tight, ignoring how sticky we are. I'm still inside him.

My whole body tenses when I realize I didn't wear a condom.

He rubs circles into my sweaty back, breathing into my ear, "It's okay. I love you."

I attack his mouth again before dragging him to the shower and sucking him off.

We manage to find the bed. He's too sore to take me, but I don't care.

We fall asleep together, my fingers in his hair, and I don't care what they write in books and sing in songs, this is my heaven.

* * *

><p>Ichigo winces when he sits at breakfast. He kisses me when I hand him his coffee.<p>

Black. Two sugars.

"Was it…okay for you?" I finally mumble, afraid of his answer.

Even though it had happened less than 12 hours ago, I still felt like it had been a fever dream. I'd fantasized about it once or twice, but now that I'd actually done it, I was afraid of what are sex life would look like now.

Ichigo takes another sip of his coffee, then looks at me, "Grimmjow, it wasn't just okay. It was…I had no idea. That it could feel like that. You're always passionate, but that was…it was worth the wait."

My whole body burned at the words. He sounded honest, flustered. He wasn't trying to make me feel good: he genuinely believed it.

Ichigo tried to hide his blush behind his mug, "So –um, what about you? What do you think?"

I stirred my cereal, smirking despite my shyness, "I could…if you like it, then…yeah. I loved it."

"Good."

* * *

><p><strong>1 Year Later.<strong>

"Ichigo, my precious son! Bring daddy the barbeque sauce!" Isshin hollers from his place at the grill. He honestly has no business being there. He always burns the meat, but mum doesn't have the heart to take the duty away from him.

"Okay," I say, getting up from my comfy spot next to Grimmjow. I hand him my beer and disappear into the kitchen, rummaging through the condiments. Mum is mixing a salad at the island counter, Karin painting frosting onto the birthday cake with the aid of Jinta.

"Your father almost done burning the meat?" Misaki teased, making me snort.

"Almost."

"Then I think we're ready. Kids, help me take all this food to the patio."

"Yes ma'am," Jinta jumps up, hoping Misaki hadn't just seen him sneak a lick of frosting from Karin's finger.

I winked at Karin before heading back out to the patio with the salad and barbeque sauce, smiling when I hear Grimmjow laugh. Mum had insisted on throwing a birthday party for him and I'd been quick to agree, inviting everybody from the music store and a few of our friends we'd made in college. Urahara, Starrk, and Shuhei were chilling on the patio, talking music as usual while Wonderweis, a weird-cool kid from one of Grimmjow's painting classes studied a rose bush. Chado, one of the few friends I'd managed to stay in contact with from high school had decided to wander over to my dad and help him with the barbequing. He was a good cook, actually worked for a restaurant so I had faith we wouldn't starve.

I sat the salad down on one of the tables and dropped the barbeque sauce off to my dad before rejoining Grimmjow on the patio lounge chair we'd been sharing. He handed me my beer back, a smirk on his lips as Shuhei continued to try and convince him he was not crushing on a snake-eyed customer.

"I invited him," Grimmjow said, making Shuhei's face turn almost scarlet, "I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

I'd been surprised when Gin, or Snake Eyes, had showed up to the music store one day. I'd immediately gotten jealous of him, as Grimmjow seemed at ease around him and I hadn't known him at all in high school, staying as far away from the delinquent as possible. He'd gotten his act together, apparently, since he had graduated and was currently enrolled in the same university as us. Grimmjow had described it as an easy friendship, one that had developed out of a mutual loneliness.

_"He understood me when nobody else did,"_ Grimmjow had said, _"Then I met you."_

Needless to say, Gin had managed to integrate himself more into our life. Now that I knew more about who he was, he was nothing like what people had said in high school. It made me a little ashamed, but to be fair, it had never been logical to have Grimmjow be introduced into my life either.

Fate had done its thing.

Misaki called everybody to attention. Everybody filed to chairs at tables, Isshin blessing the food before everybody dug in.

True to form, Gin showed up halfway through the meal, eyeless smile on his face.

He plopped down next to Shuhei. Grimmjow elbowed me when I snorted.

Later, Karin and Jinta schooled us in soccer. I eventually gave up and just tackled her to the grass, getting us good and dirty as her boyfriend tried to defend her honor, but he got put in a headlock by the birthday boy. Jinta fought for a bit, but it was half-hearted: it was that brotherly thing acting up again.

Grimmjow blew out his candles, opened presents. Cds from the guys, some new shirts from my parents.

"Where's yours, lover boy?" Starrk had ribbed, smirking at me.

"He got my present this morning."

My dad practically choked on his beer. My mum rubbed his back soothingly while my sister's face turned almost purple.

"Get your minds out of the gutter," I mumbled, pulling up Grimmjow's hand to show people the silver ring inlaid with a circle-cut orange and blue stone married in an infinity symbol.

"Oh my god, that is the sappiest thing I have ever seen," Jinta announced.

"So you guys are gonna tie the knot finally, eh?" Urahara said, slipping his arm over Starrk's shoulder, "About time, my boys."

"Way to go, Ichigo!"

"It's not an engagement ring, you idiots," Grimmjow said, avoiding eye contact with Misaki.

"Uh-huh," mum said with a smile, "Of course, honey. Whatever you say."

Everybody cheered and laughed, despite my blustering attempts to explain my ring present. I'd wanted to get him something I thought he'd wear: he didn't really do bracelets and his mum's necklace was so special I didn't want to try and override that. And when I'd seen the ring, I'd thought it was sent straight from heaven, a sign.

Fate again.

Grimmjow had kissed me, told me it was an amazingly thoughtful gift.

The more I thought about it, than yeah, it was an engagement ring of sorts. A promise ring.

Did Grimmjow know that too?

I grabbed Grimmjow's hand, feeling insecure.

I don't know why I worried.

He squeezed back.

* * *

><p>I guess it really bothered Ichigo that our family now considered us engaged.<p>

Doesn't bother me what they think, but it made Ichigo retreat into his head for the rest of the day.

We helped Misaki clean up the kitchen, the leftover cake tucked away in the fridge. She kissed us each good night and hugged me a last time, whispering happy birthday.

It made me miss my mum so much, but Misaki is amazing. My mum would have really, really loved this woman.

Starrk gives us a ride back to our apartment. We lay on the couch for a bit, watch tv before retreating to bed.

He kissed me goodnight, but I wasn't letting him off that easily.

"Ichigo."

"Yeah?"

"The ring can mean whatever you want it to."

He smiles and kisses me and kisses me and kisses me.

I take him twice before he passes out. He usually snores really loud after we fuck. It's soothing to me.

I wrap myself around him.

I still don't know what the ring really means, but it doesn't matter.

He fought monsters for me. Continues to fight them.

And the beautiful thing is I never asked him to.

We're not alone anymore. No longer lost.

I send a quick prayer. I'm not very religious, but I like to think my mum made it to heaven. I hope she can see the life I'm carving with Ichigo.

I finally drift off. I dream about the ocean. Yuzu's tugging on my hand, pointing at the seagulls overhead.

She has Misaki's eyes.

Ichigo's eyes.

I've never even met her and I love her.

Ichigo pushes me into the sand, kisses me silly.

And when I wake up, I'm still in the paradise.

* * *

><p><em>The End.<em>


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